\eoman 
Adventurer 


Georde  W  Goudk 


THE   YEOMAN    ADVENTURER 


OF  Miff.  MHURY.  10»  AKGfUS 


HIS    BLADE    RAN    THROUGH    BETWEEN    MY    COAT   AND    WAISTCOAT,    AND 
THE    GUARD    THUMPED    SORE    ON    MY    RIBS.      THEN    HE    WAS    MINE! 


Drawn  by  D.  C.  Hutchison. 


(See  page  40.) 


The 
Yeoman  Adventurer 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  and  London 

Cbc    •Knickerbocker    press 
1917 


Tbc  faitcfcerbocfeer  f>rcse,  ticw  Borfc 


TO 

A.    D.    STEEL-MAITLAND,    M.P. 

IN  GRATITUDE  AND  ADMIRATION 


2129730 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  TACT 

I.  THE  GREAT  JACK  .  .  .  •  .         i 

II.  THE  SERGEANT  OF  DRAGOONS       .  .  .8 

III.  MISTRESS  MARGARET  WAYNFLETE  .  .16 

IV.  OUR  JOURNEY  COMMENCES             .  .  .      23 
V.  THE  ANCIENT  HIGH  HOUSE           .  .  .      32 

VI.  MY  LORD  BROCTON  .  .  .  .      44 

VII.  THE  RESULTS  OF  LOSING  MY  VIRGIL  .  .      52 

VIII.  THE  CONJURER'S  CAP         .  .  .  .62 

IX.  MY  CAREER  AS  A  HIGHWAYMAN  .  .  •      73 

X.  SULTAN        .  .  .  .  .  "83 

XI.  IN  WHICH  I  SLIP    .  .  .  .  •       97 

XII.  THE  GUEST-ROOM  OF  THE  "  RISING  SUNJ"  .     106 

XIII.  PHARAOH'S  KINE    .  .  .  .  .118 

XIV.  "WAR  HAS  ITS  RISKS"     .             .  .  .     134 
XV.  IN  THE  MOORLANDS            .            ,  ,  .     148 

XVI.  BONNIE  PRINCE  CHARLIE  ,  .  163 

XVII.  MY  NEW  HAT         .  .  .  .  .179 

XVIII.  THE  DOUBLE  Six    .  .  .  .  .     193 

XIX.  WHAT  CAME  OF  FOPPERY  .  .  ,  .211 

XX.  THE  COUNCIL  AT  DERBY   ....     226 

XXI.  MASTER  FREAKE  KNOWS  AT  LAST  .  .     242 

XXII.  A  BROTHER  OF  THE  LAMP  .  .  .     257 

XXIII.  DONALD        .  .  .  .  .  .269 

XXIV.  MY  LORD  BROCTON  PILES  UP  HIS  ACCOUNT  .     282 

XXV.    I   SETTLE   MY  ACCOUNT  WITH   MY  LORD   BROCTON        303 

XXVI.  THE  WAY  OF  A  MAID  WITH  A  MAN  .     322 
EPILOGUE  :  THE  LITTLE  JACK        .  328 


THE   YEOMAN    ADVENTURER 

CHAPTER    I 
THE  GREAT  JACK 

OUR  Kate,  Joe  Braggs,  and  I  all  had  a  hand  in  the 
beginning,  and  as  great  results  grew  in  the  end  out  of 
the  small  events  of  that  December  morning,  I  will  set 
them  down  in  order. 

It  began  by  my  refusing  point-blank  to  take  Kate  to  the 
vicar's  to  watch  the  soldiers  march  by.  I  loved  the  vicar, 
the  grave,  sweet,  childless  old  man  who  had  been  a  second 
father  to  me  since  the  sad  day  which  made  my  mother  a 
widow,  and  but  for  the  soldiers  nothing  would  have  been 
more  agreeable  than  to  spend  the  afternoon  with  the  old  man 
and  his  books.  But  my  heart  would  surely  have  broken 
had  I  gone.  A  caged  linnet  is  a  sorry  enough  sight  in  a 
withdrawing-room,  but  hang  the  cage  on  a  tree  in  a  sunlit 
garden,  with  free  birds  twittering  and  flitting  about  it,  and 
you  turn  dull  pain  into  shattering  agony.  The  vicar's  little 
study,  with  the  rows  of  books  he  had  made  me  know  and 
love  with  some  small  measure  of  his  own  learning  and  passion, 
was  the  perch  and  seed-bowl  of  my  cage,  the  things  in  it, 
after  my  sweet  mother  and  saucy  Kate,  that  made  life 
possible,  but  still  part  of  the  cage,  and  it  would  have  maddened 
me  to  hop  and  twitter  there  in  sight  of  free  men  with  arms 
in  their  hands  and  careers  in  front  of  them.  Jack  Dobson 
would  march  by,  the  sweetness  of  life  for  Kate — little  dreamed 
she  that  I  knew  it — but  for  me  the  bitterness  of  death.  Jack 
Dobson  !'  I  liked  Jack,  but  not  clinquant  in  crimson  and 
gold,  with  spurs  and  sword  clanking  on  the  hard,  frost-bitten 
road.  I  laughed  at  the  idea  ;  Jack  Dobson,  whom  I  had 


2  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

fought  time  and  time  again  at  school  until  I  could  lick  him 
as  easily  as  I  could  look  at  him  ;  Jack  Dobson,  a  jolly  enough 
lad,  who  fought  cheerily  even  when  he  knew  a  sound  thrashing 
was  in  store  for  him,  but  all  his  brains  were  good  for  was  to 
stumble  through  Arma  virumque  cano,  and  then  whisper, 
"  Noll,  you  can  fire  a  gun  and  shoot  a  man,  but  how  can  you 
sing  'em  ?  "  And  because  his  thin,  shadowy,  grasping  father 
was  a  man  of  much  outward  substance  and  burgess  for  the 
ancient  borough,  Jack  was  cornet  in  my  Lord  Brocton's  newly 
raised  regiment  of  dragoons,  this  day  marching  with  other  of 
the  Duke  of  Cumberland's  troops  from  Lichfield  to  Stafford. 
And  for  me,  the  pride  of  old  Bloggs  for  Latin  and  of  all 
the  lads  for  fighting,  the  most  stirring  deed  of  arms  avail- 
able  was  shooting  rabbits.  So,  consuming  inwardly  with 
thoughts  of  my  hard  fate,  I  refused  to  go  to  the  vicar's. 
Mother  should  go.  For  her  it  would  be  a  real  treat,  and 
Kate  would  be  the  better  under  her  quiet,  seeing  eyes. 

"  Well  then,"  said  Kate,  "  grump  at  home  over  your 
beastly  Virgil."  Mother,  who  understood  as  only  mothers 
can,  said  nothing,  and  prepared  my  favourite  dishes  for 
dinner. 

The  meal  over,  and  the  house-place  '  tidied,'  which  seldom 
meant  more  than  the  harassing  of  a  few  stray  specks  of  dust, 
Kate  in  her  best  fripperies  and  mother  in  her  churchgoing 
gown  started  for  the  vicar's.  I  stood  in  the  porch  and  watched 
them  across  the  cobbled  yard  and  along  the  road  till  they 
dropped  out  of  sight  beyond  the  bridge. 

Then  Kate's  share  of  these  introductory  events  became 
manifest.  Search  high,  search  low,  there  was  no  sign  of  my 
dear,  dumpy  Virgil,  in  yellowing  parchment  with  red  edges. 
I  found  Kate's  cookery-book,  and  would  have  flung  it  through 
the  window,  but  my  eye  caught  the  quaint  inscription  on  the 
fly-leaf,  in  her  big,  pot-hooky  handwriting  : 

"  KATHERINE  WHEATMAN,  her  book, 

God  give  her  grease  to  lam  to  cook. 

At  the  Hanyards. 

Jul.    1739." 

The  simple  words  stung  me  like  angry  hornets.  Our 
red-headed  Kate  was  no  scholar,  but  at  any  rate  her  reading 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  3 

was  more  useful  in  our  little  world  than  mine  ;  for  this  was 
where  she  learned  the  artistry  of  the  dainties  and  devices 
Jack  Dobson  and  I  were  so  fond  of.  And  if  I  did  not  soon 
learn  to  do  something  well,  even  were  it  only  how  to  farm 
my  five  hundred  acres  to  a  profit,  Kate's  cooking  would  really 
require  the  miraculous  aid  suggested  in  her  unintentional 
and,  to  me,  biting  epigram.  I  put  the  book  down,  and  gave 
over  the  hunt  for  my  Virgil.  It  would  probably  be  useless 
in  any  case,  since  Kate  had  a  cunning  all  her  own,  and  had 
surely  bestowed  it  far  beyond  any  searching  of  mine.  I 
contented  myself  with  a  fair  reprisal,  stowing  a  stray  ribbon 
of  hers  in  my  breeches'  pocket,  and  sat  down  to  smoke.  My 
pipe  would  not  draw,  and  I  smashed  it  in  trying  to  make  it. 

The  tall  oak  clock  tick-tocked  on  in  the  house-place,  and 
Jane  sang  on  at  her  churning  in  the  dairy  across  the  yard. 
I  sat  gazing  at  the  fire,  where  I  could  see  nothing  but  Jack 
Dobson  in  his  martial  grandeur,  and  I  hated  him  for  his 
greatness,  and  despised  myself  for  my  pettiness.  All  the 
same  it  was  unendurable,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  see  Joe  Braggs 
tiptoeing  carefully  across  the  yard  dairywards.  The  rascal 
should  have  been  patching  a  gap  in  the  hedge  of  Ten-acres, 
and  here  he  was,  foraging  for  a  jug  of  ale.  He  could  wheedle 
Jane  as  easily  as  he  could  snare  a  rabbit,  but  I  would  scarify 
him  out  of  his  five  senses,  the  hulk. 

The  singing  stopped,  and  then  the  churning,  and  five 
minutes  later  I  crept  up  to  the  kitchen  door,  which  was 
ajar.  There  was  my  lord  Joe,  a  jug  of  ale  in  hand,  his  free 
arm  round  Jane's  neck.  How  endurable  these  two  found 
life  at  the  Hanyards  !  I  caught  a  fragment  of  their  gossip. 

"  Be  there  such  things  as  rale  quanes,  Jin  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  replied.  "  There's  pictures  of  'em  in 
one  of  Master  Noll's  books.  Crowns  on  their  yeds,  too." 

"  There's  one  on  'em  down  'tour  house,  Jin,  but  she 
ain't  got  no  crown.  But  bless  thee,  wench,  I'd  sooner  kiss 
thee  than  look  at  fifty  quanes." 

Jane  yelped  as  I  murdered  an  incipient  kiss  by  knocking 
the  jug  out  of  his  hand  across  the  kitchen,  but  in  kicking 
him  out  of  doors  I  tripped  over  a  bucket  of  water,  and 
about  half  a  score  fine  dace  flopped  miserably  on  the  wet 
floor. 


4  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Dunna  carry  on  a'  that'n,  Master  Noll,"  said  Joe.  "  I 
only  com'  up  t'ouse  to  bring  you  them  daceys." 

"  And  what  the  devil  do  I  want  with  them  ?  "  said  I 
angrily. 

Joe  knew  me.  He  said,  "  There's  a  jack  as  big  as  a 
gate-post  in  that  'ole  between  the  reeds  along  th'  'igh  bonk." 

He  saw  the  cock  of  my  eye,  and  went  on :  "I  saw  'im 
this  mornin',  an'  'card  'im.  'E  made  a  splosh  like  a  sack  o' 
taters  droppin'  of!  the  bridge.  So  I  just  copped  'e  a  few 
daceys,  thinkin'  as  you'd  be  sure  to  go  after  'im." 

"  Put  them  in  some  fresh  water,  Joe,  and  you,  Jane,  fill 
him  another  jug.  I'll  own  up  to  Mistress  Kate  for  smashing 
the  other." 

I  fetched  my  rod  and  tackle,  picked  up  the  bucket  of 
dace,  and  set  off  across  the  fields  to  the  river.  The  bank 
nearer  the  house,  and  about  three  hundred  yards  from  it, 
stood  from  two  to  six  feet  above  the  water,  being  lowest 
where  a  brick  bridge  carried  the  road  to  the  village.  The 
opposite  bank  was  very  low,  and  was  fringed  in  summer 
with  great  masses  of  reeds  and  bulrushes,  now  withered 
down  nearly  to  nothing,  but  still  showing  the  pocket  of  deep 
water  where  the  jack  had  "  sploshed  like  a  sack  o'  taters." 
It  was  opposite  the  highest  part  of  our  bank — the  Hanyards 
was  bounded  by  the  river  in  this  direction — and  the  bridge 
was  about  one  hundred  yards  down-stream  to  my  left.  In  a 
few  minutes  a  fine  dace  was  swimming  in  the  gap  as  merrily 
as  the  tackle  would  let  him. 

For  an  hour  or  more  I  took  short  turns  up  and  down  the 
bank,  just  far  enough  from  the  edge  to  keep  my  cork  in  view. 
If  the  jack  was  there,  he  made  no  sign,  and  at  length  my 
sportsman's  eagerness  began  to  flag,  and  my  eye  roamed 
across  the  meadows  to  the  church  spire,  under  the  shadow 
of  which  life  as  I  could  never  know  it  was  lilting  merrily 
northwards.  Here  I  was  and  here  I  should  remain,  like  a 
cabbage,  till  Death  pulled  me  up  by  the  roots. 

Worthy  Master  Walton  says  that  angling  is  the  con- 
templative man's  recreation,  and,  having  had  in  these  later 
years  much  to  con  over  in  my  mind,  I  know  that  he  is  right. 
But  it  is  no  occupation  for  a  fuming  man,  and  as  I  marched 
up  and  down  I  forgot  all  about  y  cork,  till,  with  a  short 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  5 

laugh  that  had  the  tail  of  a  curse  in  it,  I  noted  that  a  real 
gaff  was  a  silly  weapon  with  which  to  cut  down  an  imaginary 
Highlander,  and  turned  again  to  my  angling. 

And  at  that  very  moment  a  thing  happened  the  like  of 
which  I  had  never  seen  before,  and  have  not  since  seen  in 
another  ten  years  of  fishing.  My  rod  was  jerked  clean  off 
the  bank,  and  careered  away  down-stream  so  fast  that  I  had 
to  run  hard  to  get  level  with  it.  Here  was  work  indeed, 
and  at  that  joyous  moment  I  would  not  have  changed  places 
with  Jack  Dobson.  Without  ado,  I  jumped  into  the  river, 
waded  out,  recovered  the  butt  of  my  rod,  and  struck. 

"  As  big  as  a  gate-post."  Joe  was  right.  As  I  struck, 
the  jack  came  to  the  surface.  The  great  stretch  of  yellow 
belly  and  the  monstrous  length  of  vicious  snout  made  my 
heart  leap  for  joy.  I  would  rather  land  him  than  command  a 
regiment.  My  rod  bent  to  a  sickle  as  I  fought  him,  giving 
him  line  and  pulling  in,  again,  again,  and  again.  A  dozen 
times  I  saw  the  black  bars  on  his  shimmering  back  as  he  came 
at  me,  evil  in  his  red-rimmed  eyes  and  danger  in  his  cruel 
teeth,  but  the  stout  tackle  stood  it  out.  Sweat  poured  off 
my  forehead  though  I  was  up  to  the  waist  in  ice-cold  water. 
Inch  by  inch  I  fought  my  way  to  the  bank,  and  then  fought 
on  again  to  get  close  to  the  bridge,  where  I  could  scramble 
out. 

Probably  I  was  half  an  hour  in  getting  him  there,  but  at 
last,  by  giving  him  suddenly  a  dozen  yards  of  loose  line  to  go 
at,  I  was  able  to  climb  on  to  the  bank  and  check  him  before 
he  got  across  to  the  stumps  of  the  reeds.  But  here  I  met  with 
disaster,  for  in  climbing  up  I  jerked  the  hook  of  my  gaff  out 
of  my  collar,  where  I  had  put  it  for  safety,  and  it  fell  into  the 
stream. 

"  Stick  to  the  fish,"  said  some  one  behind  me,  "  and  leave 
the  hook  to  me." 

"  Thanks,"  said  I  briefly,  for  I  was  scant  of  breath,  and 
continued  the  struggle. 

A  woman  knelt  on  the  bank,  puUed  the  gaff  in  with  a 
riding  whip,  plunged  down  a  shapely  hand  and  recovered  it. 
Then  she  stood  behind  me,  watching  the  fight.  The  jack, 
big  and  strong  as  he  was,  began  to  tire,  and  soon  I  had  him 
making  short,  sharp  spurts  in  the  shallow  water  at  our  feet. 


6  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

My  new  ally  stood  quietly  on  the  bank,  holding  the  gaff 
ready  for  the  right  moment.  It  came  :  a  deft  movement,  a 
good  pull  together,  and  the  great  jack  curled  and  bounced  on 
the  bank. 

"  Over  thirty  pounds  if  he's  an  ounce  !  "  I  cried  gleefully. 

"  Well  done,  fisherman  !  "  she  said.  "  It  was  a  splendid 
sight.  I've  watched  you  all  along.  When  you  jumped  into 
the  river,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  drown  yourself.  You 
had  been  walking  up  and  down  in  a  most  desperate  and 
dejected  fashion." 

The  raillery  gave  me  courage  to  look  into  her  eyes.  I 
wondered  if  they  were  black,  but  decided  that  they  were  not, 
since  her  hair  was  the  colour  of  wheat  when  it  is  ripening  for 
the  sickle  and  the  summer  sun  falls  on  it  at  eve.  And  I,  who 
am  six  feet  in  my  socks,  had  hardly  to  lower  my  eyes  to  look 
into  hers.  Her  face  was  beautiful  beyond  all  imagining  of 
mine.  I  had  conjured  up  visions  of  Dido  enthralled  of 
^Eneas,  of  Cleopatra  bending  Antony  to  her  whim.  But 
the  conscious  art  of  my  day-dreams  had  wrought  no  such 
marvel  as  here  I  saw  in  very  flesh  before  me.  I  felt  as  one 
who  drinks  deep  of  some  rich  and  rare  vintage,  and  wonders 
why  the  gods  have  blessed  him  so.  And  further,  as  small 
things  jostle  big  things  in  the  mind,  I  knew  that  this  was 
the  real  queen  that  had  dazzled  Joe  Braggs. 

"  What  do  you  call  it  ?  "  she  said,  looking  down  at  the 
fish. 

"  A  jack,  or  pike,  madam." 

1  The  tyrant  of  the  watery  plains,'  as  Mr.  Pope  calls  him. 
You've  heard  of  Mr.  Pope,  the  poet  ?  "  She  spoke  as  if  '  No  ' 
was  the  inevitable  answer. 

"  Strictly  speaking,  no,  madam,"  said  I  gravely,  "  but  I 
have  read  his  so-called  poems."  She  frowned.  "  Horace 
calls  the  jack,"  I  continued,  "  lupus,  the  wolf-fish,  as  one 
may  say,  and  a  very  good  name  too.  Doubtless  madam  has 
heard  of  Horace." 

My  quip  brought  a  glint  into  her  eyes  and  a  richer  colour 
to  her  cheek.  "  Yes,  heard  of  him,"  she  said,  with  a  trace  of 
chagrin  in  her  voice.  "  And  now,  O  Nimrod  of  the  watery 
plains,  how  far  is  it  to  the  village  smithy  ?  " 

"  Just  under  a  mile,  madam." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  7 

"  And  how  long  does  it  take  to  shoe  a  horse  ?  " 

"  How  many  shoes,  madam  ?  " 

Again  the  glint  in  her  eyes,  and  this  time  I  saw  some  of 
the  blue  in  them.  "  One,  sir,"  she  said  shortly. 

"  Ten  to  fifteen  minutes,  madam." 

"  He's  a  very  long  time,"  she  said  under  her  breath. 

"  The  smith  is  probably  very  busy  to-day." 

"  Busy  !     Why  so  ?  " 

"  The  dragoons  may  have  found  him  much  work,"  said  I, 
merely  my  way  of  explaining  the  delay.  But  the  words 
stabbed  her.  She  laid  a  hand  on  my  arm  and  cried  ^gaspingly, 
"  Dragoons  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  Quick  !  " 

"  The  Duke  of  Cumberland  is  marching  north  from  Lich- 
field  against  the  Stuart,  and  Lord  Brocton's  dragoons  are  in 
the  village." 

"  Brocton  !  O  God  !  Brocton  !  My  father  is  taken  ! 
And  by  Brocton  !  "  She  spoke  aloud  in  her  agitation,  and  I 
saw  that  she  was  cut  to  the  quick.  And  I  rejoiced,  so  strange 
is  the  human  heart,  that  it  was  Lord  Brocton's  name  that 
came  in  anguish  off  her  tongue.  Oh  for  one  blow  at  the  man 
whose  father  had  harried  mine  into  an  untimely  grave ! 

In  sharp,  frosty  air  sound  travels  far  across  the  meadows 
of  the  Hanyards.  The  hills  that  hem  the  valley  to  the  west 
perhaps  act  as  a  sounding  board.  Anyhow,  further  inquiry 
as  to  her  trouble  was  stopped  by  the  rattle  of  distant  hoofs. 
We  were  standing  now  less  than  a  dozen  paces  from  the 
bridge.  A  straggling  hedge,  on  a  low  bank,  crossed  flush  up 
to  the  bridge  by  a  stile,  cut  the  field  off  from  the  road.  I 
rushed  to  the  stile,  and  cautiously  pushed  my  head  through 
near  the  ground.  Half  a  mile  of  level  road  stretched  to  my 
right  towards  the  village,  and  along  it,  and  now  less  than  six 
hundred  yards  away,  a  squad  of  dragoons  was  galloping 
towards  us.  The  hedge  was  thin  and  leafless,  and  there  was 
not  cover  enough  for  a  rabbit.  I  ran  back. 

"  Dragoons,"  said  I. 

"  After  me,"  she  replied  carelessly,  and  I  saw  that  danger 
for  herself  left  her  cold. 

I  kicked  -the  great  jack  motionless,  flung  him  to  the  foot 
of  the  bank  under  the  hedge,  and  the  rod  after  him,  hurried 
her  up  to  the  stile,  leaped  into  the  water,  took  her  in  my 


8  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

arms,  and  carried  her  undei  the  bridge.  In  less  than  a 
minute  after  I  stopped  wading,  the  dragoons  clattered 
overhead. 

Not  an  hour  ago  I  had  been  aching  for  life  and  adventures, 
and  here  I  was,  up  to  the  loins  in  water,  with  a  goddess  in 
my  arms.  Her  right  arm  was  round  my  neck,  and  her  cheek 
so  near  that  I  felt  her  sweet,  warm  breath  fanning  my  own. 
As  the  sounds  died  away,  I  turned  and  looked  at  her  face, 
and  I  had  my  reward.  Her  eyes  told  me  that  she  thanked 
and  trusted  me. 

"  Well  done,  fisherman  !  "  she  said  for  the  second  time. 

"  You're  heavier  than  the  jack,"  replied  I,  hitching  her 
as  far  from  the  water  as  possible  before  wading  back.  A 
minute  later  I  put  her  down  on  the  bank  with  tumbled, 
yellow  hair  and  face  flaming  red.  I  examined  her  critically, 
and  cried  triumphantly,  "  Not  a  stitch  wet  1  " 


CHAPTER    II 
THE  SERGEANT  OF  DRAGOONS 

I  THREW  the  jack  across  my  shoulder  and  we  started  for 
the  Hanyards.     Madam  offered  no  explanations,  and  I 
made  no   inquiries.     It  was  obvious   to   me   that   the 
dragoons  had  gone  on  to  the  little  hedge  ale-house,  a  good, 
long  mile  away,  where  the  road  from  the  village  struck  into 
a  roundabout  road  to  Stafford.     Here,  in  the  "  Bull  and 
Mouth,"  Mother  Braggs  ruled  by  day  and  Master  Joe  by 
night,  and  here  beyond  a  doubt  the  stranger  lady  had  tarried 
while  her  father  had  gone  on  with  the  horses  to  the  nearest 
smithy  at  Milford. 

There  was  ample  time  to  get  to  the  Hanyards,  but  still, 
for  safety's  sake,  we  kept  behind  hedges  as  far  as  possible. 
She  walked  ahead,  and  I  followed  behind,  water  oozing  out 
of  my  boots  and  breeches  at  every  step,  and  the  jack's  tail 
flopping  against  my  legs.  Never  had  I  gone  home  from 
fishing  with  such  prizes.  What  pleased  me  most  was  her 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  9 

silence.  It  matched  the  trust  in  her  eyes.  Except  for 
brief  instructions  as  to  the  direction,  no  word  passed  until 
we  gained  the  Hanyards  from  the  rear,  and  I  led  her  into 
the  house-place  unobserved  by  anyone. 

"  There  is  little  time  to  talk,"  I  began.  "  The  dragoons 
are  certain  to  come  here,  as  this  is  the  only  house  between 
the  inn  and  the  village.  Your  father  is,  you  fear,  a  prisoner, 
and  indeed  it  seems  the  only  explanation  of  his  absence.  I 
do  not  ask  why.  I  gather  that  there  is  no  purpose  to  be 
served  by  your  sharing  his  fate." 

"  Free,  I  may  be  able  to  help  him.  A  prisoner,  I 
should  .  .  ."  She  stepped,  hesitating. 

"  My  Lord  Brocton  ?  "  said  I  interrogatively.  For  the 
second  time  her  face  burned,  and  I  saw  in  it  shame  and 
distress  and  fear.  My  lord  was  piling  up  a  second  account 
with  me,  and  for  humbling  tliis  proud  beauty  he  should  one 
day  pay  the  price  in  full. 

But  it  was  time  to  act.  I  ran  to  the  porch  and  roared 
out,  "  Jane  !  Jane  !  Where  are  you  ?  Come  here  quick  !  " 

Jane  came  running  in  from  the  kitchen.  She  stopped 
dead  with  surprise  when  she  saw  my  companion,  and  could 
not  even  cackle  on  about  the  jack. 

"  Now,  Jane,  do  exactly  what  I  say.  Take  this  lady 
upstairs  and  dress  her  as  nearly  like  yourself  as  you  can. 
It's  good  you  are  much  of  a  height.  Pack  her  own  clothes 
carefully  out  of  sight.  Off,  quick  !  " 

They  disappeared  upstairs,  and  I  watched  the  yard  gate 
with  eager  eyes.  No  dragoons  appeared,  and  in  a  short 
time  madam  and  Jane  were  back  in  the  house-place.  Jane 
had  done  her  work  well.  The  great  lady  was  now  a  fine 
country  serving-wench,  her  shapeliness  obscured  in  a  home- 
spun gown  that  fitted  only  where  it  touched,  her  feet  in  huge, 
rough  boots,  her  yellow  hair  plastered  back  off  her  forehead 
and  bunched  into  one  of  Jane's  '  granny  caps,'  and  indeed 
totally  hidden  by  the  large  flap  thereof,  which  in  Jane's  case 
served  the  purpose  of  "  keepin'  the  draf  out'n  'er  neck- 
hole  "  when  she  was  at  work  in  the  dairy.  For  my  share  of 
disguising,  I  now  rubbed  together  some  ruddle  and  dry  soil, 
and  the  mixture  gave  a  necessary  touch  of  coarseness  to  her 
hands.  Altogether  she  was  changed  out  of  recognition, 


io  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

even  if,  which  was  not  the  case,  any  of  her  pursuers  had 
seen  her  previously. 

"  Jane,"  said  I,  "  her  name  is  Molly  Brown.  She  has 
served  here  two  years.  Her  mother  lives  at  Colwich.  Have 
you  both  got  that  ?  " 

"  Molly  Brown — two  years — mother  at  Colwich,"  said 
madam  with  a  smile,  and  Jane  repeated  it  after  her. 

"  Now,  Molly,"  said  I,  with  an  answering  smile,  "  Jane 
will  start  you  churning.  It's  an  easy  job.  You  just  turn 
a  handle  till  the  butter  comes.  Do  not  flatter  yourself  that 
you'll  get  any  butter,  but  I'll  forgive  you  that.  And,  having 
learned  from  Jane  how  to  pretend  to  do  it,  you  need  not 
churn  in  earnest  till  the  dragoons  ride  into  the  yard.  Listen 
to  Jane,  and  you,  Jane,  for  the  next  ten  minutes,  teach  the 
lady  how  to  talk  Staffordshire  fashion." 

"  Rate  y'are,  Master  Noll,"  said  Jane,  who  was  plainly 
bursting  with  the  importance  of  her  task. 

"  First  lesson,  madam,"  said  I.  '  Rate  y'are,'  not 
'  Right  you  are  ! '  It  was  not  Mr.  Pope's  manner  of  speech, 
but  it  will  suit  your  circumstances  better.  Off  to  the  dairy, 
and  leave  the  dragoons  to  me  !  " 

"  Rate  y'are.  Master  Noll,"  said  madam,  and,  our 
anxieties  notwithstanding,  we  both  joined  in  Jane's  rattle 
of  laughter. 

They  went  off  to  the  dairy,  and  I  began  my  own  pre- 
parations. I  displayed  the  great  jack  in  full  view  on  the 
table,  forestalling  Kate's  housewifely  objections  by  disposing 
him  on  an  old  coat  of  mine,  so  that  he  should  not  mess  the 
table.  In  the  house-place  he  looked  much  finer  and  longer 
than  in  the  open  air,  and  I  gloated  over  him  as  he  lay  there. 
I  longed  to  change  my  clothes,  not  so  much  for  comfort's 
sake  as  to  cut  a  better  figure  in  her  eyes ;  but  I  dared  not  run 
the  risk  of  not  being  at  hand  when  the  dragoons  arrived.  I 
drew  a  quart  jug  of  ale,  threw  most  of  it  away,  got  down 
a  horn  drinking-cup,  drank  a  little,  spilled  some  down  my 
clothes,  slopped  some  on  the  table,  made  up  the  fire,  and  sat 
down  to  wait.  It  was  now  about  half-past  three,  the  straw- 
coloured  sun  was  perching  on  the  hill- tops,  and  darkness  would 
soon  be  drawing  on  apace. 

For  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  sat  there,  living  over 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  n 

again  the  precious  minutes  under  the  bridge,  when  the  clatter 
of  hoofs  awakened  me  to  the  realities  of  the  situation.  Peep- 
ing cautiously  past  the  edge  of  the  blind,  I  saw  the  dragoons 
— there  were  six  of  them — ride  up  to  the  gate.  Sharp  orders 
rang  out,  and  three  of  the  men  dismounted,  including  him 
who  had  given  the  orders,  and  came  up  the  yard.  One  stayed 
at  the  gate  to  mind  the  horses,  and  the  other  two  trotted  off 
on  the  scout  round  the  fields  near  the  farm. 

I  slipped  back  to  my  chair,  and  let  my  chin  drop  on  my 
chest,  as  if  I  were  dozing  in  drink. 

Some  one  said  at  the  porch  door,  "  In  the  King's  name  !  " 
I  took  no  notice,  and  they  crowded,  jingling  and  noisy,  into 
the  porch.  Again  sharp  commands  were  given  ;  the  two  men 
grounded  their  arms  with  a  clang  on  the  stone  floor  of  the 
porch,  and  waited  there.  The  man  in  command  stepped 
forward  into  the  firelight  and  said  crisply,  "  In  the  King's 
name  !  " 

It  was  idle  to  pretend  any  longer.  I  raised  my  head  and 
blinked  drunkenly  at  him.  Then  I  filled  the  horn,  sang 
thickly  and  with  beery  gusto,  "  Here's  a  health  unto  His 
Majesty,"  and  said,  "  Fill  up  and  drink,  whoever  you  are, 
and  shut  the  door.  It's  damned  cold." 

He  had  little,  red,  ferrety  eyes,  and  they  looked  fiercely 
at  me — fiercely  but  not  suspiciously,  I  thought.  He  waved 
my  hospitality  aside,  and  said,  "  You  are  Oliver  Wheatman?  " 

"  Oliver  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,  Esquire,  at  His 
Majesty's  service  to  command,"  I  replied  with  great  gravity, 
and  filled  another  horn  of  ale.  I  might  pretend  to  be  drunk, 
but  I  could  not,  unfortunately,  pretend  to  drink,  and  it  was 
strongish  ale.  He  made  a  motion  to  stop  me — welcome  proof 
that  he  believed  me  tipsy  in  fact — and  said,  "  Master  Wheat- 
man,  the  less  drunken  you  are,  the  better  you  will  answer 
my  questions." 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  draining  off  the  horn,  "  I  can  drink  and 
talk  with  any  man  living,  and,  drunk  or  sober,  I  only  answer 
the  questions  of  my  friends.  So  get  a  horn  off  the  dresser — 
I'm  a  bit  tired — fill  up,  and  tell  me  what  you  want.  D'you 
happen  to  be  of  my  Lord  Brocton's  regiment  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Then  you'll  be  as  drunk  as  me  before  you've  finished 


12  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

with  the  Hanyards.  Our  ale  goes  to  the  head  most  damn- 
ably quick,  let  me  tell  you.  You  tell  my  dear  old  butty, 
the  worshipful  Master  Jack  Dobson,  that  I've  caught  a  jack 
half  as  thick  and  more  than  half  as  long  as  himself.  Here 
it  be.  Fetch  a  horn,  I  tell  you,  and  drink  to  me  and  the  two 
jacks — Jack  Dobson  and  this  jack  beauty  here." 

He  was  getting  no  nearer  to  the  object  of  his  visit,  and, 
perhaps  thinking  it  would  be. well  to  humour  me,  he  fetched 
a  horn  and  tried  our  Hanyards  ale.  This  gave  me  a  chance 
of  taking  stock  of  him. 

He  was  a  thin,  wiry  man  of  middle  height  and  middle 
age.  Such  a  face  I  had  never  seen.  The  first  sight  of  it 
made  me  suck  in  my  breath  as  if  I  had  touched  the  edge 
of  a  razor.  The  bridge  half  of  his  nose  had  gone,  or  he 
had  never  had  it,  and  the  lower  half  was  stuck  like  a  dab 
of  putty  midway  between  mouth  and  eyebrows.  His 
little,  beady  eyes  were  set  in  large,  shallow  sockets,  giving 
him  an  owl-like  appearance.  A  mouth  originally  large 
enough,  and  thickly  lipped  like  a  negro's,  had  been  extended, 
as  it  seemed,  to  his  left  ear  by  a  savage  sword  slash  which 
had  healed  very  badly.  He  had  an  air  of  mean,  perky 
intelligence,  as  of  one  of  low  rank  and  no  breeding  who 
had  for  many  years  been  accustomed  to  cringe  to  the  great 
and  domineer  over  smaller  fry  than  himself.  Some  sort 
of  military  rank  he  had,  judging  by  his  stained  and  frayed 
but  once  gaudy  jacket.  He  carried  a  tuck  of  unusual  length, 
stretching  along  his  left  side  from  heel  to  armpit,  and  a 
couple  of  pistols  were  stuck  in  his  belt. 

He  put  down  the  horn,  smacked  his  lips,  and  began  : 

"  Master  Wheatman,  I  am  searching  for  a  Jacobite  spy — 
a  woman.  We  took  her  father  up  at  the  '  Barley  Mow,' 
and  I  learned  from  a  man  of  yours  that  the  daughter  was 
at  his  mother's  ale-house  down  the  road.  She  is  not  there, 
and  left  to  walk  to  meet  her  father,  she  said.  She  has  cer- 
tainly not  done  that,  and  I  have  called  to  see  if  she  is  hiding 
here  or  hereabouts." 

"  By  gad,  we'll  nab  her  if  she  is,"  said  I  heartily.  "  She's 
not  been  through  that  gate  in  the  last  half-hour,  for  it  takes 
me  that  to  drink  yon  jug  dry,  and  I  started  with  it  full. 
But  I'll  ask  the  maids.  Mother  and  our  Kate  are  at  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  13 

parson's  yonder,  gaping  at  you  chaps.  I  dare  say  you  saw 
them." 

"  No,"  said  he  doubtingly. 

One  of  the  men  stepped  out  of  the  porch,  saluted,  and, 
being  bidden  to  speak,  informed  his  officer  that  he  had  seen 
Lord  Brocton  and  Mr.  Cornet  Dobson  talking  to  two  ladies. 

"  That'd  be  they,"  I  said,  and  going  with  unsteady  steps 
to  the  door,  I  vigorously  shouted,  "  Jin,  Moll,  Jin,  Moll, 
come  here  !  They're  in  the  dairy,"  I  added  by  way  of 
explanation. 

The  crucial  moment  came.  Jane  and  '  Moll '  scurried 
across  the  yard  like  rabbits,  but  stopped  at  the  porch  door 
with  well-simulated  surprise  at  the  sight  of  the  dragoons. 

"  Gom,  I  thawt  'e'd  set  the  house  a-fire,"  said  Jane 
thankfully,  addressing  the  company  at  large,  and  she  bravely 
bustled  through  and  shrilled  at  me,  "At  it  again,  when 
your  mother's  out ;  y'd  better  get  off  to  bed  afore  she  comes 
in.  She'll  drunk  yer." 

Jane's  acting  was  so  much  better  than  mine  that  I 
nearly  lost  my  head  at  being  thus  crudely  accused  before 
'  Moll/  but  she  went  on  remorselessly,  addressing  the 
dragoon,  "  Dunna  upset  him  for  God's  sake,  Master  Squaddy. 
'E'm  a  hell-hound  when  'e'm  gotten  a  sup  of  beer  in  'im." 

"  Don't  trouble,  my  good  girl.  I'm  used  to  his  sort. 
Leave  him  to  me  and  answer  my  questions.  The  truth  or 
the  jail,  my  girl." 

"  Yow,"  sniffed  Jane,  "  he'd  snap  yow  in  two  like  a  carrot. 
Bed's  best  place  for  'im.  He's  as  wet  as  thatch  with  his 
silly  jacking." 

"  Jane,"  said  I,  "  never  mind  me.  I'm  neither  dry 
enough  nor  drunk  enough  to  go  to  bed  yet.  Captain  here 
wants  to  ask  you  and  Moll  some  questions.  Stop  clacking 
at  me  like  a  hen  at  a  weasel  and  listen  to  him." 

Jane  went  through  the  ordeal  easily,  appealing  to  '  Moll ' 
for  verification  at  every  turn,  and  so  cleverly  that  the  latter 
appeared  to  be  as  much  under  examination  as  herself. 
Moreover,  Jane  stood  square  in  the  firelight,  but  so  as  to 
keep  '  Moll  '  shouldered  behind  the  chimney  in  comparative 
gloom.  They'd  been  churning  all  afternoon,  the  butter 
was  there  to  be  seen,  stacks  of  it ;  nobody  had  been  in  or 


14  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

near  the  yard  ;  the  gate  had  never  clicked  once,  and  nobody 
could  open  it  without  being  heard  in  the  dairy.  She  over- 
whelmed the  dragoon  with  her  demonstrations  of  the  im- 
possibility of  anybody  coming  up  the  yard  without  her  or 
'  Moll '  knowing  it. 

"  That's  all  right,  Jane,"  said  I,  at  length.  "  But  she 
could  easily  have  got  into  the  house  or  into  the  stables 
without  you  or  Moll  seeing  her.  Let's  all  have  a  look  for 
her.  Unless  she's  small  enough  to  creep  into  a  rat-hole, 
we'll  soon  find  her." 

Sergeant  Radford — to  give  him  his  name  and  rank, 
which  I  learned  later  from  Jack  Dobson — agreed  to  this, 
and  in  my  joy  at  knowing  that  the  ordeal  was  over,  I  was 
on  the  point  of  forgetting  that  I  was  drunk  till  I  caught 
the  clear  eyes  of  madam  fixed  in  warning  on  me.  Jane 
acted  as  leader  to  the  two  dragoons  in  overhauling  the  barns 
and  stabling,  while  '  Moll,'  the  sergeant,  and  I  searched 
the  house  as  closely  as  if  we  were  looking  for  a  lost  guinea. 
Of  course  our  efforts  were  futile,  slow  as  we  were  so  as  not 
to  outpace  my  drunken  footsteps,  and  careful  as  we  were 
so  as  to  satisfy  the  keen  eyes  of  the  sergeant,  who  was  very 
evidently  on  no  new  job  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  '  Moll ' 
too  seemed  jealous  of  Jane's  laurels,  and  went  thoroughly 
into  the  business.  She  and  the  serjeant  peeped  together 
under  beds  and  into  closets,  and  she  laughed  brazenly  at 
certain  not  very  obscure  hints  of  his  as  to  the  great  services 
I  should  render  to  the  search-party  if  I  kept  my  eye  on  the 
house-place.  She  even  said,  "  Master  Noll,  don't  'e  think 
as  'ow  th'  ale  be  gettin'  flat  downstairs  ?  It  wunna  be  wuth 
drinkin'  if  y' ain't  sharp." 

The  result  was,  that  in  about  half  an  hour  a  thoroughly 
satisfied  and  rather  tired  assembly  filled  the  house-place, 
for  the  two  scouts  rode  up  to  the  porch  with  the  news  that 
they,  too,  had  found  no  trace  of  the  fugitive.  With  the 
sergeant's  leave  I  sent  the  five  dragoons  into  the  kitchen  with 
the  two  maids  to  have  a  jug  of  ale  apiece,  while  he  stayed 
with  me  in  the  house-place,  to  crack  a  bottle  of  wine. 

I  hoped,  but  in  vain,  that  he  would  tell  me  news  of  the 
stranger's  father,  but  he  was  too  wary  for  that,  and  I  did  not 
dare  to  ask  him.  He  made  close  inquiries  as  to  the  lie  of  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  15 

land  hereabouts,  and  I  pointed  out  that  there  was  a  field- 
path  leading  plainly  to  the  village  from  the  other  side  of  the 
bridge  and  coming  out  at  an  obscure  stile  at  the  back  of  the 
"  Barley  Mow."  The  spy  might  have  taken  that  and  become 
alarmed.  She  could  then  avoid  the  village  by  another  plain 
path,  and  so  get  ahead  of  the  troops  on  the  Stafford  road. 

"  But  what  for  ?  Who's  to  help  her  there,  Master 
Wheatman  ?  " 

"  Ask  me  another,  Captain,"  said  I.  "  But  a  wise 
woman  would  know  where  to  find  friends,  and  Stafford's 
full  of  papishes,  burn  'em  !  " 

"  Ah  !  " 

"  There's  Bulbrook  and  Pippin  Pat  and  Ducky  Bellows  ; 
there's  old  sack-face,  the  parson  there,  as  good  as  a  papist, 
very  near.  You  keep  your  eyes  on  those  big  houses  in  the 
East  Gate.  As  for  me,  look  at  that  back  and  breast  and  good 
broad-sword  there.  Damn  me  if  I  don't  rub  'em  up  and 
come  and  have  a  ding  with  'em  at  these  rebels.  On  Naseby 
Field  they  were,  Captain,  long  before  your  time  and  mine, 
but  they  did  good  work  against  these  same  bloody  Stuarts. 
Crack  t'other  bottle,  there's  a  good  fellow.  I'm  dry  with 
talking  and  wet  with  fishing,  and  it'll  do  me  good." 

I  pressed  him  to  stay  and  '  have  a  good  set  to,'  but  he 
refused,  and  after  drinking  enough  to  keep  me  dizzy  for  a 
week,  he  nipped  out  and  ordered  his  men  to  horse.  I  walked 
to  the  gate  with  him.  He  thanked  me  for  my  help  and  good 
cheer,  and  said  it  was  quite  clear  that  the  spy  was  nowhere 
in  or  near  the  Hanyards.  I  renewed  my  greetings  to  Cornet 
Dobson  and  even  sent  my  respects  to  his  lordship.  Off  they 
rode,  and  it  was  with  a  thankful  heart  that,  remembering 
my  happy  condition  in  time,  I  stumbled  back  up  the  yard 
to  the  house-place,  where  madam  and  beaming  Jane  were 
awaiting  me. 


16  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 


JANE  had  taken  the  lady  back  to  the  house-place  and 
was  hovering  around  her,  with  little  of  the  grace  of  a 
maid-of-honour  to  be  sure,  but  with  a  heartiness  and 
zeal  that  more  than  atoned  for  any  lack  of  style.     From 
mother's  withdra wing-room  I  fetched  our  chief  household 
god,  a  small  ancient  silver  goblet,  and,  filling  it  with  wine, 
offered  it  to  the  stranger  with  what  I  supposed,  no  doubt 
wrongly,  to  be  a  modish  bow.     She  drank  a  little,  and  then, 
at  my  urging,  a  little  more. 

"  Madam,"  I  said,  "  I  think  you  do  not  need  to  be 
'  Molly  Brown  '  any  longer.  Yon  dragooner  is  quite  certain 
that  you  are  not  here,  and  we  can  safely  take  advantage  of 
his  opinion.  As  for  you,  Jane,  you've  done  splendidly,  and 
I  heartily  thank  you."  I  re-filled  the  goblet  and  handed  it 
to  Jane,  saying,  "  Drink,  Jane,  to  madam's  good  luck." 

The  honest  girl  blushed  with  joy  at  my  words,  and  as  for 
drinking  wine  out  of  the  famous  silver  goblet  of  the  Han- 
yards — such  a  distinction,  as  she  conceived  it,  was  reward 
enough  for  anything. 

"  Thanks  are  payment  all  too  poor  for  what  you  have 
done,  sir,"  said  madam,  "  and  any  words  of  mine  would 
make  them  poorer  still.  But,  sir,  I  do  thank  you  most 
heartily.  And  you,  too,  Jane,  have  done  me  splendid  service. 
You  are  as  brave  and  clever  as  you  are  bonny  and  pretty." 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  bowing  low,  "  you  are  too  kind  to  my 
services,  which  have,  indeed,  been  rather  crudely  performed." 

"  Not  so,"  she  replied,  "  but  with  shrewd,  ready  wit  and 
certain  judgment.  I  cannot  imagine  myself  in  a  tighter 
corner  than  at  the  bridge,  and  your  device  had  the  effective 
simplicity  of  genius.  Your  plan  here  was,  to  be  sure, 
commonplace,  but  it,  too,  required  caution  and  good  acting, 
and  you  and  Jane  supplied  both.  It  was  nicer  than  popping 
me  into  some  musty  priest's  hole,  though  I  expect  this  ancient 
building  has  one." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  17 

I  looked  at  the  wall  as  half  expecting  the  sword  of  Captain 
Smite-and-spare-not  Wheatman  to  rattle  to  the  ground  under 
this  awful  insinuation. 

"  The  only  use  our  family  has  found  for  priests,  madam," 
I  said,  "  has  been,  I  fear,  to  hunt  them  like  vermin.  As  a 
Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  degenerate." 

"  You'll  not  even  be  that  much  longer  if  I  keep  you  from 
getting  into  some  dry  clothes.  And,  if  Jane  is  willing,  I 
will  make  myself  myself.  I  would  fain  be  on." 

With  a  sweet  smile  and  a  gracious  curtsy,  she  followed 
the  ready  Jane  upstairs. 

I  removed  all  traces  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  carried 
my  precious  jack  into  the  pantry,  where  I  hung  him  in  safety. 
He  should  be  set  up  by  Master  Whatcot  of  Stafford  as  a 
trophy  and  memento  in  honour  of  this  great  day.  I  then 
hurried  off  to  my  room  to  attend  to  my  own  appearance, 
and  indeed  I  needed  it,  for  I  was  caked  with  mud  up  to  my 
knees  and  soaking  wet  up  to  my  waist.  For  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  was  grieved  to  the  bone  at  the  inadequacy  of  my 
wardrobe,  and  even  when  I  had  donned  my  Sunday  best  my 
appearance  was  undoubtedly  villainous  from  the  London 
point  of  view.  I  feathered  myself  as  finely  as  my  resources 
permitted,  but  it  was  a  homely,  uncouth  yeoman  that  raced 
downstairs  and  awaited  her  coming.  I  drew  the  curtains, 
lit  the  candles,  kicked  the  fire  into  a  blaze,  and  built  it  up 
with  fresh  logs. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  set  down  the  hubbub 
of  thoughts  and  ideas  that  filled  my  mind.  I  had  been 
plunged  into  a  new  world,  and  floundered  about  in  it  pretty 
hopelessly,  I  can  tell  you.  The  days  of  knight-errantry 
had  come  over  again,  and  chance,  mightier  even  than  King 
Arthur,  had  commanded  me  to  serve  a  sweet  lady  in  distress. 
But  I  had  had  no  training,  no  preliminary  squireship,  in  which 
I  could  learn  how  things  were  done  by  watching  brave  and 
accomplished  knights  do  them.  I  had  lived  among  the 
parts  of  speech,  not  among  the  facts  of  life.  I  could  hit  a 
bird  on  the  wing,  snare  a  rabbit,  ride  like  a  saddle,  angle  for 
jack  and  trout,  strike  like  a  sledge-hammer,  swim  like  a  fish — 
and  that  was  all.  I  knew,  too,  every  turn  and  track  and  tree 
for  miles  round  ;  and  that  might  be  something  now,  and 


i8  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

indeed,  as  will  be  seen,  turned  out  my  most  precious  accom- 
plishment. Some  people  said  I  was  as  proud  as  Lucifer, 
others  that  I  was  as  meek  as  a  mouse,  and  I  once  overheard 
our  Kate  tell  Priscilla  Dobson,  Jack's  vinegary  sister,  that 
both  were  right — which  confounded  me,  for  our  '  Copper 
Nob,'  as  I  used  to  call  her,  was  a  shrewd  little  woman.  Still, 
such  as  I  was,  the  stranger  lady  should  have  me,  an  she 
would,  as  her  squire,  to  the  last  breath  in  my  body.  Only 
let  me  get  out  of  my  cabbage-bed,  only  give  me  a  man's  work 
to  do,  and  T  would  ask  for  no  more.  Neither  for  love  nor 
for  liking  would  I  crave,  but  just  for  the  work  and  the  joy 
of  it. 

The  yard  gate  clicked,  and  a  moment  later  mother  and 
Kate  came  in. 

"  Oh,  Noll,  it's  been  grand  !  "  burst  out  Kate.  "  I  wish 
you'd  been  there.  There  were  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of 
soldiers,  horse  and  foot,  and  guns  and  wagons  without  end. 
Lord  Brocton  was  there,  and  Sir  Ralph  Sneyd,  who  is  just 
a  duck,  and  a  nasty-looking  major  with  his  face  all  over 
blotches.  And  they  saw  us,  and  crowded  into  the  vicar's 
to  talk  to  us." 

"  And  what  about  Jack  Dobson  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Oliver,  what  have  you  got  your  best  clothes  on  for  ?  " 

"  Because  I  got  wet  through  catching  a  great  jack.  But 
never  mind  my  best  clothes.  How  did  Jack  look  in  his 
uniform  ?  " 

"  A  lot  better  than  Lord  Brocton,  or  anyone  else  there, 
if  you  must  know,"  she  said,  jerking  the  words  at  me,  with  her 
cheeks  near  the  colour  of  her  hair. 

"  Can  he  talk  sense  yet  ?  " 

"  He  talked  like  the  modest  gentleman  he  is,"  said  my 
mother,  "  and  looked  nearly  as  handsome  as  my  own  boy. 
He  sent  his  loving  greetings  to  you,  and  would  fain  have  come 
to  see  you  but  his  duties  would  not  allow  of  it." 

Of  course  my  gibes  at  Jack  were  all  purely  foolish  and 
jealous,  and,  moreover,  I  could  now  afford  to  be  truthful  ;  so 
I  said,  "  If  Jack  doesn't  do  better,  as  well  as  look  better, 
than  my  Lord  Brocton,  I'll  thrash  him  soundly  when  he  gets 
back.  But  he  will.  He's  a  rare  one  is  Master  Jack,  and  by  a 
long  chalk  the  pluckiest  soul,  boy  or  man,  I've  ever  come 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  19 

across.     And  he'll  learn  sense,  of  the  sort  he  wants,  as  fast 
as  anybody  when  the  time  comes." 

"  Of  course  the  lad  will,"  said  mother,  taking  off  her  long 
cloak,  and  Kate,  when  mother  turned  to  hang  it  on  its  accus- 
tomed hook,  gave  a  swift  peck  at  my  cheek  with  her  lips, 
and  whispered,  "  You  dear  old  Noll !  " 

All  this  time  I  had  been  listening  with  strained  ears  for 
footsteps  on  the  stairs.  Now  I  heard  them,  and  waited 
anxiously.  The  door  opened,  and  Jane  came  in,  upright 
and  important.  She  curtsyed  to  my  mother,  announced, 
"  Mistress  Margaret  Waynflete,"  and  my  goddess  came  into 
the  room. 

Straight  up  to  my  mother  she  walked, — a  poor  word  to 
describe  her  sweet  and  stately  motion,  et  vera  incessu  patuit 
dea,  as  the  master  has  it, — curtsied  low  and  nobly  to  her 
and  said,  "  Mistress  Wheatman,  I  am  a  stranger  in  distress, 
and  should  have  been  in  danger  but  for  your  son,  who  has 
served  me  and  saved  me  as  only  a  brave  and  courteous  gentle- 
man could." 

I  had  ever  loved  my  mother  dearly,  but  I  loved  her 
proudly  now,  for  the  greatest  dame  in  the  land  could  not  have 
done  better  than  this  sweet,  simple  mother  of  mine.  Without 
surprise  or  hesitation,  she  took  Mistress  Waynflete's  hands 
in  her  own,  and  said,  "  Dear  lady,  anyone  in  distress  is  wel- 
come here,  and  Oliver  has  done  just  as  I  would  have  him  do. 
And  this  is  my  daughter,  Kate,  who  will  share  our  anxiety 
to  help  you." 

And  then  I  w?~  proud  of  our  Kate,  Kate  with  the  red  hair 
and  the  milk-white  face,  the  saucy  eye  and  the  shrewd 
tongue,  Kate  with  the  tradesman's  head  and  the  heart  of 
gold.  She  shook  madam  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  led  her 
to  my  great  arm-chair  in  the  ingle-nook  as  to  a  throne  that 
was  hers  of  right. 

Thus  was  Mistress  Waynflete  made  welcome  to  the 
Hanyards. 

Mother  and  Kate  took  their  accustomed  seats  on  the 
cosy  settle  beside  the  hearth.  I  sat  on  a  three-legged  stool 
in  front  of  the  fire,  and  Jane  flitted  about  as  quietly  as  a 
bat,  laying  the  table  for  our  evening  meaL 

Never  had  the  house-place  at  the  Hanyards  looked  so 


20  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

fair.  The  firelight  danced  on  the  black  oak  wainscot  which 
age  and  polishing  had  made  like  unto  ebony,  and  the  row 
of  pewter  plates  on  the  top  shelf  of  the  dresser  glimmered 
in  their  obscurity  like  a  row  of  moons.  Our  special  pride, 
a  spice-cupboard  of  solid  mahogany,  ages  old,  glowed  red 
across  the  room,  and  from  the  neighbouring  wall  the  great 
sword  and  back-and-breast  with  which  Smite-and-spare-not 
Wheatman,  Captain  of  Horse,  had  done  service  at  Naseby, 
seemed  to  twinkle  congratulations  to  me  as  one  not  un- 
worthy of  my  name.  Not  an  unsuitable  frame,  perhaps, 
this  ancient,  goodly  house-place,  for  the  beautiful  picture 
now  in  it,  on  which  I  looked  as  often  as  I  dared  with  furtive 
eyes  of  admiration. 

She  told  her  story  with  simple  directness.  Her  father's 
name  was  Christopher  Waynflete,  a  soldier  by  profession, 
who  had  seen  service  in  many  parts  of  the  Continent  and  had 
attained  the  rank  of  Colonel  in  the  Swedish  army.  Her 
mother  she  had  never  known,  for  she  had  died  when  Mistress 
Margaret  was  but  a  few  months  old,  and  her  father  had 
maintained  an  unbroken  reticence  on  the  subject.  Some 
six  months  ago,  Colonel  Waynflete  had  returned  to  England 
to  settle,  desiring  to  obtain  some  military  employment,  a 
plan  which  his  long  service  and  professional  knowledge  seemed 
to  make  feasible.  In  London  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  Earl  of  Ridgeley,  to  whom,  indeed,  he  bore  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  a  Swedish  diplomat  in  Paris.  Through 
the  Earl  he  had  met  Lord  Brocton,  the  Earl's  only  son  and 
heir.  The  Colonel's  hope  of  employment  in  the  army  had 
not  been  realized,  and  this  and  certain  other  reasons,  which 
she  did  not  specify,  had  embittered  him  against  the  Govern- 
ment. Not  having  any  real  allegiance  to  King  George, 
whom  he  had  never  served,  and  who  now  refused  his  services, 
he  easily  entered  into  the  plans  of  certain  influential  Jacobites 
in  London  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made.  Three  days 
previously  he  had  set  out  from  London  to  join  Prince  Charles. 
For  certain  reasons  (again  she  did  not  give  details)  she  was 
unwilling  to  be  separated  from  her  father,  at  any  rate  not 
until  circumstances  made  it  necessary  for  them  to  part,  and 
then  the  plan  was  that  she  should  go  to  Chester,  with  which 
city  she  was  inclined  to  think  her  father  had  some  old  con- 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  21 

nexion,  and  stay  there  with  the  wife  of  a  certain  cathedral 
dignitary  of  secret  but  strong  Jacobite  inclinations.  Colonel 
Waynflete's  connexion  with  the  Jacobite  cause  had,  natur- 
ally, been  kept  secret,  but  she  was  almost  certain  that  Lord 
Brocton  had  discovered  it  through  a  certain  spy  and  toady 
of  his,  one  Major  Tixall. 

"  Pimples  all  over  his  face  ?  "  broke  in  Kate. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mistress  Waynflete,  with  a  little  shudder. 

"  He  was  in  the  village  this  afternoon  with  Lord  Brocton," 
returned  Kate. 

"  Peace,  dear  one,"  said  mother,  "  our  turn  is  coming. 
Be  as  quiet  as  Oliver." 

"  Oliver,  mother  dear,  hasn't  seen  Major  Tixall,  whose 
face  is  enough  to  make  an  owl  talk,  let  alone  a  magpie  like 
me." 

Her  right  ear  was  near  enough  to  me,  the  stool  being 
big  and  I  bigger,  so  I  pinched  the  pretty  little  pink  shell, 
and  whispered  in  it,  "  Shut  up,  Kit,  and  think  of  Jack," 
which  effectually  silenced  her. 

Mistress  Waynflete  had  little  more  to  tell.  They  had 
travelled  rapidly,  avoiding  Coventry  and  Lichfield,  where 
the  royal  forces  had  assembled,  but  bending  west  so  as  to 
get  by  unfrequented  roads  to  Stafford,  and  so  on  to  the  main 
north  road  along  which  the  Prince  was  now  reported  to  be 
marching.  Just  outside  the  "  Bull  and  Mouth  "  her  horse 
had  cast  a  shoe.  Leaving  her  to  rest  in  the  ale-house,  the 
Colonel  had  gone  on  with  the  horses  to  the  nearest  smithy 
at  Milford.  He  was  quite  unaware  of  the  northward  move- 
ment of  troops  from  Lichfield,  and  was  under  the  impression 
that  he  was  now  well  beyond  the  danger  zone.  We  had  heard 
from  the  serjeant  of  his  capture. 

Kate,  at  mother's  request,  took  up  the  tale  here.  The 
road  past  the  Hanyards  to  the  village  enters  the  main  road 
abruptly,  and  clumps  of  elms  prevent  anyone  travelling 
along  it  from  seeing  what  is  happening  in  the  village.  The 
vicarage  is  opposite  the  smithy  and  the  inn,  and  when  mother 
and  Kate  got  there,  only  a  few  dragoons  were  about.  They 
watched  .the  Colonel  ride  up,  leading  his  daughter's  horse, 
and  saw  him  turn  round  at  once  and  attempt  to  go  back 
as  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  dragoons  ;  but  a  larger 


22  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

body,  under  the  command  of  Major  Tixall,  cantered  in  at  the 
moment  and,  trapped  between  the  two  bodies,  the  Colonel 
had  been  compelled  to  surrender.  He  was  kept  until  my 
Lord  Brocton's  arrival  nearly  an  hour  later,  and  had  then 
been  sent  on  to  Stafford  under  a  strong  guard. 

This  was  the  only  fresh  piece  of  information  that  was  of 
any  importance.  There  is  a  jail  at  Stafford,  and  no  doubt  the 
Colonel  was  by  now  lodged  in  it. 

"  I  fear  that  my  views,  or  at  any  rate  my  father's  views, 
make  me  a  dangerous  guest,"  said  Mistress  Waynflete, 
"  though  your  kindness  has  made  me  a  welcome  one." 

"  Madam,"  I  said  coldly,  "  the  only  politics  I  know  is  that 
my  Lord  Brocton  is  fighting  against  the  Stuart,  and  if  by 
fighting  for  the  Stuart  I  can  get  in  a  fair  blow  at  my  Lord 
Brocton,  I  fight  for  the  Stuart." 

"  Oliver,"  said  mother,  "  it  is  wrong — I  say  nothing  about 
its  wisdom — to  choose  sides  in  such  matters  on  grounds  of 
personal  enmity." 

"  Lord  Brocton's  a  beast,"  said  Kate  shortly. 

Mistress  Waynflete  had  turned  a  richer  colour  at  the 
mention  of  Brocton's  name,  but  at  Kate's  words  she  became 
scarlet,  and  for  that  I  vowed  I  would  knock  him  on  the  head 
as  ruthlessly  as  if  he  were  a  buck  rabbit  as  soon  as  I  got  the 
chance. 

She  recovered  and  continued  her  story,  but  as  it  only 
concerned  my  share  in  the  day's  doings,  it  is  unnecessary  to 
repeat  it  here.  She  told  it,  however,  in  such  kind  terms, 
that  I  made  an  end  to  my  discomfort  by  going  to  fetch  the 
great  jack  for  mother  and  Kate  to  look  at.  When  returning, 
however,  I  could  not  help  hearing  Kate  say  to  Mistress  Wayn- 
flete, "  Without  a  '  by  your  leave  '  ?  " 

"  As  indifferently  as  if  I  had  been  a  bag  of  flour,"  was  the 
cool  reply.  And  I  had  dithered  like  an  aspen  leaf  ! 

"  I  suppose  he  half  drowned  you  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  there  was  not  a  wet  stitch  on  me." 

"  Oliver,"  added  my  mother,  "  has  not  many  things  to  do 
that  are  worth  his  doing,  but  what  he  finds  he  does  well." 

"  Such  as  catching  jack,"  said  I,  staggering  in  with  my 
heavy  load.  It  was  admired  unstintingly,  and  was  indeed 
worthy  of  all  praise. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  23 

"  Supper  is  ready,  mam,"  said  Jane  ;  "  and  Joe  says  he 
knowed  it  wor  as  big  as  a  gate-post." 

"  And  where  is  Joe  ?  " 

"  In  the  kitchen,  Master  Noll." 

"  Give  him  a  good  supper,  not  much  ale,  and  that  small, 
and  tell  him  to  stop  there.  I  shall  want  him."  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Mistress  Waynflete,  I  went  on  :  "  There's  one  way,  and 
only  one,  into  Stafford  that's  perfectly  safe  to-night.  Joe 
and  I  will  row  you  there.  Now,  mother,  I'm  hungrier  than 
the  great  jack  ever  was." 


CHAPTER    IV 
OUR  JOURNEY  COMMENCES 

I  HAVE  already  said  that  the  river  was  the  boundary  of 
the  Hanyards  on  the  side  towards  the  village.  About  a 
hundred  yards  above  the  pocket  of  deep  water  where  the 
jack  had  lain,  I  had  built  a  little  covered  dock,  and  here  I 
kept  a  craft,  half  boat  and  half  punt,  which  I  used  for  my 
fishing,  and  in  which  mother  and  Kate  could  lie  on  cushions 
while  I  rowed  them  on  the  river  on  warm  summer  nights. 
It  was  heavy  and  ungainly,  but  very  comfortable,  and  as  safe 
as  the  ark. 

Joe  received  the  information  that  he  was  to  row  to 
Stafford  as  cheerfully  as  an  invitation  to  a  jug  of  beer,  and 
went  off  whistling  to  get  the  boat  ready. 

Everything  that  care  could  suggest  was  done  for  Mistress 
Waynflete's  comfort.  Jane  carried  down  to  the  boat  two 
huge  stone  beer  bottles,  rilled  with  boiling  water.  Mother 
insisted  on  madam  taking  her  thick  hooded  cloak,  shaped 
like  a  fashionable  domino,  and  covering  her  from  head  to 
ankles.  Kate  slipped  into  my  pocket  a  pint  flask  of  her 
extra  special  concoction  of  peppermint  cordial,  the  best 
possible  companion  on  a  night  like  this.  Jane  came  back  and 
returned  again  laden  with  rugs  and  cushions,  and  soon  reported 
that  the  boat  was  ready. 


24  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Mother  and  Kate,  with  Jane  behind  them,  came  to  the 
garden  gate  to  bid  us  farewell.  Little  was  said,  for  Mistress 
Waynflete  was  too  moved  by  their  kindness  to  say  much, 
and  I  was  too  preoccupied.  Madam  kissed  them  all  in  turn 
and  murmured  a  good-bye.  I  kissed  mother  and  Kate,  and 
they  wished  me  a  good  voyage  and  a  safe  return.  We  turned 
our  faces  riverward  and  started. 

It  was  now  nearly  eight  o'clock.  The  night  was  pitch- 
dark,  the  sky  star-studded  and  moonless.  It  was  freezing 
hard,  the  keen  air  stung  our  faces,  the  tiniest  twig  was 
finger-thick  with  hoar-frost,  and  the  grass  crunched  under 
our  feet  at  every  step.  I  went  ahead  as  guide,  and  in  five 
minutes  we  arrived  at  the  dock,  where  Joe,  the  boat  out, 
cushioned  and  trim  for  the  voyage,  was  vigorously  slapping 
his  hands  crosswise  round  his  waist  to  keep  them  warm. 
He  held  the  boat  up  to  the  bank,  I  stepped  in,  handed  in 
Mistress  Waynflete,  bestowed  her  with  all  possible  comfort, 
settled  by  her  side,  and  took  the  ropes.  Then  Joe,  clambering 
in,  pushed  off  and  the  voyage  began. 

It  was  up-stream,  but  fortunately  the  current  was  gentle, 
though  there  was  a  fair  amount  of  water  coming  down. 
There  was,  or  rather  would  have  been  on  an  ordinary  night, 
no  danger  of  discovery,  since  the  river  was  half  a  mile  from 
the  main  road  at  our  starting-place,  and  ran  still  farther 
away  from  it  for  nearly  two  miles.  Then  came  the  one 
possible  danger-spot  on  such  a  night  as  this,  with  the  road 
occupied  by  troops  on  the  march.  A  long  bend  in  the 
river  took  it  so  close  to  the  road  that  the  yard  of  a  wayside 
inn  ran  right  down  to  the  water.  If  we  got  safely  past 
this,  all  danger  would  be  over  till  we  ran  sheer  up  to  the 
ruined  wall  of  the  town.  The  moon  would  not  rise  for  two 
hours,  so  there  was  ample  time  for  our  row  of  about  five  miles. 

"  I  trust  you  are  comfortable,  madam  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Comfortable  and  warm  and  cosy,"  she  replied.  "  But 
for  my  fears  for  my  father  I  should  even  be  happy,  for  it 
has  never  before  been  my  lot,  and  I  have  wandered  far 
and  wide  over  half  Europe,  to  experience  such  and  so  much 
kindness  in  one  day  from  perfect  strangers." 

"  I  am,  indeed,  happy  in  my  mother  and  sister.  They 
are  pearls  of  great  price." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  25 

"  None  better  in  all  Staff ordsheer,"  said  Joe. 

"  You  have  rendered  me  a  greater  service  than  you 
know  of,  and  I  must  not  let  you  leave  yourself  out."  To 
hide  a  note  of  wistfulness  in  her  voice,  she  added  mischiev- 
ously, '  Must  I,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Yow  could  find  wus'n'  Wheatman  o'  th'  'Anyards," 
said  Joe,  with  sturdy  precision  of  praise. 

"  Is  he  really  a  hell-hound,  Joe,  when  he's  got  a  sup  of 
beer  in  him  ?  I've  no  clear  notion  what  a  hell-hound  is, 
but  clearly  it  means  something  as  bad,  say,  as  a  janissary — 
the  worst  animal  I  ever  came  across." 

"  Sup  o'  beer  in  'im,"  snorted  Joe  contemptuously. 
"  He  dunna  really  know  what  beer  is,  my  lady.  It's  a 
grand  thing  is  beer,  if  y'll  only  tak'  enough  of  it  to  do  y' 
good,  but  there's  no  vartue  in  half  a  pint  of  it.  I've  told 
'im  that  lots  of  times.  But  it's  God's  truth,  my  lady,  'e 
dunna  want  no  beer,  dunna  Master  Noll,  to  mak  'im  'it 
like  the  kick  of  a  'oss.  I  on'y  brought  'im  a  few  daceys 
up  t'ouse  this  mawnin',  an' " 

"  You  row  harder,  Joe,  and  yawp  less,"  said  I,  interrupting 
him.  "  Between  you  and  Jane  I  shan't  have  a  rag  of 
character  left." 

"  Sup  o'  beer  in  him,"  he  growled,  and  spat  loudly  on 
his  hands.  Joe  looked  at  all  men  as  potential  customers 
of  the  "  Bull  and  Mouth,"  and  judged  them  accordingly. 

"  I  know  the  worst  about  you  now,  Master  Wheatman, 
and  by  way  of  providing  you  with  a  less  embarrassing  topic 
of  conversation,  you  might  tell  me  what  we  shall  do  when 
we  get  to  Stafford." 

"  We  are  going  to  Marry-me-quick's." 

She  started  so  abruptly  that  I  laughed  outright,  and 
Joe  rumbled  like  an  overloaded  wagon.  I  explained. 

"  We  shall  approach  the  town  on  the  south  side  where 
the  wall  comes  down  to  the  river.  '  Marry-me-quick '  is 
not,  as  you  seem  to  suppose,  a  disagreeable  process,  but 
an  agreeable  old  woman  who  lives  in  a  cottage  which  backs 
on  to  the  river.  Every  schoolboy  in  the  town  knows  her 
by  that  name,  which  is  also  the  name  of  a  kind  of  toffee 
she  makes,  and  by  the  sale  of  which  she  earns  a  modest 
living.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  the  name  originated,  but 


26  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

there  it  is.  I  went  to  the  grammar  school  in  the  town, 
and  in  my  time  I  must  have  bought  and  consumed  some 
hundredweights  of  her  '  marry-me-quick.'  In  her  tiny 
cottage  you  may  rest  in  safety  while  I  hunt  up  Jack  Dobson 
and  learn  what  has  been  done  with  your  father." 

"  An'  if  I'd  got  a  shilling,"  said  the  irrepressible  Joe, 
"  for  every  pat  of  butter  I've  taken  owd  Marry-me-quick,  I'd 
—I'd " 

He  seemed  lost  for  words,  so  I  assisted  him,  and  paid  him 
back  at  the  same  time,  by  saying,  "  Pluck  up  courage  enough 
to  speak  to  Jane." 

"  That's  rate,  Master  Noll." 

"  Is  Jane  so  very  fond  of  money,  Joe  ?  "  asked  Mistress 
Waynflete  curiously. 

"  No,"  said  Joe.  "  She  ain't  grasping,  ain't  Jin.  She 
told  me  t'  nate,  she  c'd  'ave  'ad  a  mint  of  money  if  she'd 
liked,  but  she  wouldna  tak'  it.  Said  it  would  'a'  burnt  'er 
fingers.  '  More  fool  yow,'  says  I ;  '  it'd  'a'  soon  gotten  cowd 
weather  like  this'n.'  But  Jin's  all  rate.  Er'll  never  bre'k 
'er  arm  at  church  door,  wunna  Jin." 

I  explained  to  Mistress  Waynflete  that  a  woman  who 
broke  her  arm  at  the  church  door  was  a  housewifely  maiden 
who  became  a  slatternly  housewife  after  marriage.  "  There's 
no  fear  of  Jane  doing  that,"  she  replied ;  "  she's  as  good  as 
the  guineas  she  would  not  take." 

For  a  space  silence  fell  on  us.  All  my  attention  was 
required  to  keep  the  boat  clear  of  the  banks,  for  the  little 
river  turned  and  twisted  through  its  meadows  like  a  hunted 
hare.  There  was  only  the  starlight  to  steer  by,  but  I  had 
fished  every  yard  of  the  river,  and  knew  it  so  well  that  I  gave 
Joe  a  clear  channel  to  row  in.  Not  a  sound  jarred  on  the 
rhythmic  purr  of  the  oars  in  the  rowlocks  and  the  gentle 
lapping  of  the  stream  against  the  bow.  This  day  had  God 
been  very  good  to  me.  This  was  life  as  I  would  have  it ; 
work  to  do  for  brain  and  brawn,  and  a  woman  to  do  it  for 
who  was  worth  the  uttermost  that  was  in  me.  Romance 
had  flushed  the  drab  night  of  my  life  with  a  rosy  dawn,  and 
my  heart  was  lifted  up  within  me.  If  it  faded  away,  there 
would  at  least  be  the  memory  of  it.  But  it  might  not  fade. 
I  was  under  no  illusions  as  to  the  stiffness  of  my  task.  I 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  27 

was  matched  against  the  powers  that  be,  against  my  Lord 
Brocton,  whose  ability  to  work  this  maiden  ill  was  increased 
a  thousandfold  by  his  military  authority.  I  saw  my  way 
into  Stafford,  and  I  saw  no  more,  not  even  my  way  out  of 
it,  and  least  of  all  my  way  out  of  it  with  the  Colonel  rescued 
and  restored  to  his  daughter.  Mistress  Waynflete  had  been 
so  determined  in  her  decision  to  follow  her  father  that  perhaps 
she  had  some  plan  in  mind.  She  said  nothing  if  she  had,  and 
if  she  had,  it  would,  I  supposed,  depend  on  her  woman's 
power  of  influencing  Brocton.  The  future  was  as  black  as 
the  outlook  along  the  river,  but  I  faced  it  eagerly. 

She  broke  the  silence :  "  The  last  boat  I  was  in  was  a 
gondola.  It  was  on  a  perfect  night  in  a  Venetian  June,  the 
sky  a  sapphire  sprinkled  with  diamonds,  the  warm,  scent- 
laden  air  filled  with  murmurings  and  snatches  of  song.  And 
there  was  no  danger." 

"  Romance,  perchance,"  said  I. 

"  You  cannot  have  a  one-sided  romance.  Romance  is  an 
atmosphere  breathed  by  two,  not  an  emotion  felt  by  one. 
To  be  sure,  he  was  the  most  appallingly  in  earnest  lover  woman 
ever  had.  He  wept  for  a  kiss  with  his  fingers  twiddling  on 
the  hilt  of  his  stiletto.  Dear  heart,  these  Italians  !  " 

"  I  should  like  to  meet  his  countship,"  said  I  energeti- 
cally. 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  count,  with  a  pedigree  as  long  as  the 
Rialto,  and  he  had  not  two  silver  piastres  to  rub  against  each 
other.  He  was  the  handsomest  man  I  have  even  seen. 
Fortunately,  we  left  Venice  before  he  had  quite  decided  that 
it  was  time  to  dig  his  knife  into  me." 

"  You  speak  lightly  of  your  danger,  madam,"  I  said 
coldly. 

"  A  hot-blooded  Italian  with  a  stiletto  in  his  hand  is  a 
much  more  desirable  creature,  let  me  tell  you,  than  a  cold- 
blooded Englishman  with  the  devil  in  his  heart.  That  fiery 
little  count,  conceited  and  poverty-stricken,  did  at  any  rate 
pay  me  the  compliment  of  thinking  for  at  least  a  fortnight 
that  I  was  a  patch  of  heaven  fallen  in  his  way,  whereas  to 
your  cold-livered  English  lord  I  am  no  more  than  an  appe- 
tizing dish." 

She  was  not  speaking  lightly  now,  but  with  cold,  concen- 


28  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

trated  anger.  I  remembered  the  reticencies  of  her  statement  at 
the  Hanyards,  and  began  to  see  dimly  some  of  the  connecting 
links  in  her  story.  My  Lord  Brocton's  character  was  well 
enough  known  to  be  the  subject  of  common  talk  at  our 
market  ordinaries.  My  very  manhood  shamed  me  in  the 
presence  of  this  queenly  woman,  marked  down  by  a  titled 
blackguard  as  his  quarry,  and  I  sat  still,  fists  tightly  clenched 
on  the  tiller-ropes,  and  said  nothing,  waiting  for  her  to  speak 
again. 

"  I  have  seen  to-day,  Master  Wheatman,"  she  said,  "  a 
sight  I  have  never  seen  before — a  beautiful  English  maiden 
growing  up  to  womanhood  in  the  calm  and  safety  of  an  English 
country  home.  You  will  be  tempted,  I  know,  to  envy  me 
my  wanderings,  my  experiences,  my  freedom,  but,  believe 
me,  I  would  rather  be  your  sweet  Kate  in  the  quiet  of  the 
Hanyards." 

"  It  isn't  as  quiet  as  it  might  be  when  Jack's  about,"  said 
I,  seeking  to  change  the  current  of  her  thoughts.  Then  I  had 
to  tell  her  all  about  Jack,  and  our  boyish  escapades  and  fight- 
ings and  friendings,  and  because  I  had  earlier  in  the  day 
thought  evil  of  dear  Jack,  I  now  could  say  nothing  good 
enough  about  him. 

It  was  time  to  relieve  Joe  at  the  oars.  At  first  he  would 
not  agree,  for,  he  said,  he'd  been  "  lagging  a  bit  during  the 
day  'long  o'  them  squaddies,"  and  wanted  to  put  in  a  day's 
work. 

"  You  will,  before  you've  done,  Joe,  for  you've  got  to 
pull  the  boat  back.  So  have  a  swig  of  beer  and  we'll  change 
over.  And  madam  shall  acknowledge  the  virtues  of  our 
Kate's  peppermint  cordial." 

Joe  shipped  his  oars  and  reached  out  for  his  bottle  of  beer. 
I  got  out  the  flask  and  said  in  a  sing-song  voice  :  "  Take  two 
gallons  of  the  best  Hollands  money  can  buy,  and  add  thereto, 
first,  four  pounds  of  choice  Barbados  sugar,  and,  secondly, 
two  bushels  of  freshly  gathered  leaves  of  the  plant  pepper- 
mint. Steep  together  for  a  whole  moon,  stirring  the  con- 
coction every  four  hours  during  the  daytime,  and  as  often 
as  you  wake  o'  nights.  Strain  through  a  piece  of  linen,  if 
you've  got  one  ;  if  not,  do  what  our  Kate  did  this  year,  use 
a  fair  maiden's  silk  stocking.  The  result  is  a  drink  fit  for  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  29 

gods,  and,  indeed,  one  which  may  even  be  offered  to  god- 
desses.    Drink,  madam  !  " 

She  was  laughing  merrily  before  I  had  finished.  "  Kate's 
stocking  sounds  the  most  innocent  ingredient  in  it,  Master 
Wheatman,  but  I  must  try  her  skill  in  brewing." 

She  did  so,  and  pronounced  it  excellent  but  strong.  I  tried 
it  too,  rather  more  copiously,  I  confess.  Indeed,  it  was  good, 
but  to  me,  I  know,  the  charm  of  the  cordial  this  time  lay  in 
the  thought  of  the  rich  red  lips  that  had  touched  the  flask 
before  mine. 

Joe  and  I  then  changed  places,  and  I  kept  hard  at  the 
oars  until  we  came  to  the  reach  which  ran  close  up  to  the 
"  Why  Not."  Here  Joe  resumed  the  oars  and  I  the  ropes. 

"  This  is  the  only  danger-spot,"  I  said.  "  Yonder  are 
the  lights  of  the  ale-house.  On  an  ordinary  night  there 
would  be  no  one  about,  even  if  it  mattered  if  there  were,  but 
to-night,  when  it  does  matter,  there  are  thousands  of  soldiers 
on  the  march,  and  there  is  some  risk  of  our  being  observed." 

In  another  five  minutes  or  so  we  heard  faint  snatches  of 
song  and  bursts  of  applause,  and  shouting  and  laughing.  The 
"  Why  Not  "  was  now  about  a  hundred  yards  ahead  on  our 
left.  On  the  right  the  bank  was  lined  with  willows  which, 
not  having  been  pollarded  for  many  years,  stretched  their 
long,  thin  branches  well  over  the  river.  I  ran  the  boat  as 
far  under  them  as  I  could.  Joe  pulled  with  short,  soft 
strokes,  and  we  crept  slowly  along.  For  a  minute  the  lighted 
windows  were  obscured  by  the  outhouses,  and  just  as  I  caught 
sight  of  them  again,  a  door  was  flung  open,  and  the  jumble 
of  noises  swelled  into  a  roar  of  jeering  laughter.  A  young 
woman  flew  out,  heedlessly  and  noisily  as  a  flustered  hen, 
and  a  burly  soldier  lurched  after  her  down  the  yard.  At  a 
whisper,  Joe  shipped  his  oars,  and  I  ran  the  boat  right  into 
the  bank.  I  grabbed  in  the  dark  for  a  hold-to,  and  luckily 
seized  the  roots  of  a  willow.  At  his  end  Joe  did  the  same. 
We  hardly  dared  to  breathe  as  we  watched  the  doings  on  the 
other  bank. 

Lust,  of  blood  or  worse,  and  the  fear  of  it,  were  there. 
The  lighted  windows  and  the  open  door  made  every  move- 
ment of  the  man  and  the  girl  clearly  visible.  No  one  followed 
them.  It  was  so  ordinary  an  event  to  the  company,  perhaps 


30  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

that  it  was  not  worth  while  leaving  mirth  and  beer  to  see  the 
issue.  But  all  serious  elements  in  their  affair  changed  abruptly 
and  to  our  instant  jeopardy.  On  the  very  edge  of  the  water 
the  girl,  knowing  her  whereabouts  to  an  inch,  turned  cleverly. 
The  man,  a  stranger  obviously,  ran  on  and  pitched  clean  and 
far  into  the  river,  while  she,  laughing  and  triumphant,  scuttled 
back  to  the  house.  Her  tale  brought  out  at  once  a  spurt  of 
men,  yelling  with  joy,  to  watch  the  fun.  Some  of  them  had 
snatched  up  lanterns  and  lighted  candles,  and  they  were 
followed  later  by  a  fresh,  older,  shrieking  woman  who  carried 
a  huge,  burning  brand  plucked  from  the  hearth. 

Happily  for  us  the  river  was  shallow,  for  a  couple  of 
strokes  would  have  brought  the  man  clean  into  us.  The 
shock  of  the  icy  water  sobered  him.  He  splashed  and 
spluttered  to  his  feet,  climbed  up  the  bank  like  a  giant  water- 
rat,  and  would  have  slunk  towards  the  house  ;  but  the  rabble 
were  on  him  before  he  had  taken  a  dozen  paces,  and  tor- 
mented him  till  he  roared  like  a  wounded  bull.  The  woman 
with  the  brand  cried  out  on  him  with  vile  words  that  made 
my  face  burn  in  the  dark,  and  belaboured  him  about  the  head 
with  her  blazing  cudgel.  At  every  blow  a  shower  of  sparks 
flew  out  that  drove  his  rollicking  mates  into  a  ring  around 
them  at  a  safe  distance  away.  The  man  must  have  been  set 
afire  had  he  not  been  soused  in  the  river  beforehand.  None 
of  his  fellows  tried  to  help  him,  just  as  before  none  had  tried 
to  hinder  him.  It  was  his  look  out  either  way,  and  they 
enjoyed  his  discomfituie  with  all  the  gusto  of  children.  At 
last  the  breathless  woman  and  the  cowed  man  came  to  a 
parley,  the  result  of  which  was  that,  with  a  whoop  of  "  pots 
round,"  they  all  crowded  back  into  the  ale-house,  and  we 
were  once  more  alone  on  the  river. 

"  The  ordeal  by  water  and  by  fire,"  I  said.  "  Push  out, 
Joe." 

"  Gom  !  Owd  Bess  give  'im  sock,"  he  replied,  and 
levered  the  nose  of  the  boat  into  midstream  again. 

Although  there  was  no  real  need  for  it,  the  escape  kept 
us  all  quiet.  I  persuaded  Mistress  Waynflete  to  lie  down, 
so  as  to  avoid  the  biting  wind  that  was  sweeping  across  the 
river,  and  Joe  and  I  by  turns  made  such  progress  that  in  less 
than  an  hour  we  drew  up  to  the  town  meadow. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  31 

The  greatest  caution  was  now  necessary,  since  we  saw 
that  the  bridge  leading  into  the  town  was  thronged  with 
people,  many  carrying  lanterns  or  torches.  The  town  wall 
ran  parallel  to  the  river,  on  our  right,  with  a  narrow  fringe 
of  meadow  between  them.  Here  the  wall  was  for  the  most 
part  tumbled  into  ruins,  and  in  the  gaps  stood  little  cottages, 
built  in  part  of  the  stones  that  had  once  formed  the  wall. 
In  one  of  these  lived  little  old  Marry-me-quick,  Mistress 
Martha  Tonks,  to  give  her  her  christening  name,  and  we  ran 
up  to  the  bank  level  with  her  place  without  being  observed 
from  the  bridge,  although  it  was  only  a  few  boat-lengths 
distant. 

I  stepped  cautiously  out  and  tiptoed  to  her  back  window. 
There  the  ancient  maiden  was,  busily  engaged  in  the  manu- 
facture of  her  staple,  no  doubt  in  anticipation  of  a  greater 
demand  for  it  in  these  stirring  days,  when  much  extra  money 
would  be  passing  around  in  the  town,  and  many  pennies 
thereof  would  dribble  into  the  pockets  of  the  youngsters. 
I  lifted  the  latch  and  stepped  in.  She  squeaked  with  affright 
till  she  saw  who  it  was,  and  then  turned  her  note  into  a  gurgle 
of  astonishment. 

"  Are  you  alone  ?  "  I  asked.  She  nodded.  "  Just  a 
minute  then,  and  I'll  be  back  again,  with  a  visitor.  Keep 
quiet !  " 

I  returned  to  the  boat,  and  as  I  was  obliged  to  move 
as  stealthily  as  a  cat,  I  could  not  help,  as  I  approached, 
hearing  Joe  say  emphatically,  "  I  wunna."  I  cursed  him 
silent,  without  troubling  to  ask  what  he  was  objecting  to, 
and  handed  Mistress  Waynflete  out. 

"  Now,  Joe,"  I  whispered,  "  off  you  go  back  !  The  moon 
will  be  up  in  a  few  minutes,  and  you  ought  to  do  it  in  an 
hour.  You  can  sit  in  the  kitchen  all  to-morrow  to  make 
up  for  this." 

"  Jin  said  'er'd  sit  up  for  me,"  he  said,  and  I  was  glad 
he  had  such  a  good  motive  to  keep  him  up  to  his  hard  task. 

"  Good-bye,  Joe,"  said  Mistress  Waynflete,  shaking  the 
good  fellow 'warmly  by  the  hand.  "  Give  my  loving  remem- 
brances to  your  mistresses  and  to  Jane.  Say  how  grateful 
I  am." 

"  Good-bye,  my  lady,"  he  said  simply,  "  and  God  bless 


32  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

you."  So  that  only  I  could  hear  him,  he  added,  "Tak' 
good  keer  on  'er,  Master  Noll.  Jin's  awful  sot  on  'er,  and 
wunna  luk  at  me  if  any  'arm  'appens  'er." 

I  gripped  his  hard  hand,  gave  him  my  parting  message 
home,  and  then  crouched  and  pushed  the  boat  into  and  down 
the  stream.  As  I  lifted  my  hand  from  her  and  she  glided 
into  the  blackness,  I  felt  in  my  heart  that  the  last  link  with 
the  old  life  was  broken.  Then,  as  I  rose  to  my  feet,  a  hand 
was  placed  on  my  arm,  and  I  tingled  in  every  fibre  at  this 
sweet  link  with  the  new  life. 


CHAPTER   V 
THE  ANCIENT  HIGH  HOUSE 

I  HAD  found  Mistress  Tonks  in  her  little  back  room, 
where  she  manufactured  marry-me-quick  by  day  and 
slept  by  night.  Her  cottage  contained  only  one  other 
room,  serving  as  shop  and  living  room,  and  fronting  on  a 
narrow  lane  which  turned  abruptly  from  the  main  street 
at  the  bridge-end  to  follow  the  curve  of  the  walls.  By  the 
time  I  returned  with  Mistress  Waynflete  she  had  shuttered 
the  window  of  the  shop,  snuffed  the  candles,  and  stirred  the 
fire  into  a  blaze. 

Marry-me-quick  was  an  ancient,  wizened,  little  woman, 
so  small  that  she  hardly  escaped  being  a  dwarf,  hump- 
backed, and  inexpressibly  ugly.  In  times  not  so  long  gone 
by  she  would  assuredly  have  burned  as  a  witch,  and  many 
supposed  her  to  be  in  league  with  the  evil  one.  But  in 
actual  fact  she  was  a  cheery,  voluble,  and  warm-hearted  little 
body,  and  one  on  whom  I  could  rely  to  serve  us  in  this 
pinch. 

"  Mistress  Tonks,"  I  said,  "  I  want  you  to  shelter  this 
lady  for  the  night." 

"  To  be  sure,"  chirped  the  little  woman.  "  Luckily 
I've  kept  the  sojers  off.  Every  house  in  the  town  is  full  of 
'em,  and  the  Mayor's  at  his  wits'  end  to  know  how  to  stuff 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  33 

'em  all  in.  I  should  think  a  score  of  'em  have  come  here, 
in  ones,  and  twos,  and  threes ;  and  when  I  stood  bold  up 
to  them  and  said,  '  Do  you  want  any  marry-me-quick  ?  ' 
they  were  off  like  scared  rabbits.  A  great,  sweet  lady  like 
you  wouldn't  think  it,  of  course,  but  it's  a  godsend  at  times 
for  a  lone  woman  when  she's  ugly  enough  to  turn  cream 
sour,  and  somedeal  crooked  o'  the  body  into  the  bargain." 

"  I  shall  certainly  desire  some  marry-me-quick,"  said 
Mistress  Waynflete,  deftly  evading  the  awkward  conclusion 
of  this  speech,  "  for  Master  Wheatman  has  described  it  in 
terms  that  make  my  mouth  water.  And  though  you  do  not 
want  to  billet  soldiers,  you  will,  I  know,  befriend  a  soldier's 
daughter." 

"  I  should  befriend  the  devil's  dam,  asking  your  lady- 
ship's pardon,  if  Master  Wheatman  brought  her  here.  I'm 
a  little,  lone,  ugly  woman,  but  Master  Noll  always  stood  by 
me.  The  lads,  drat  'em,  were  for  ever  pinching  Master 
Dobson's  bull's-eyes  and  gingerbread,  and  him  mayor  of 
the  town,  though  he's  got  lots  grander  than  that  since,  but 
they  never  pinched  any  marry-me-quick,  not  in  Master 
Noll's  time.  But  he's  gone  now,  and  I'm  not  as  nimble  as 
I  used  to  be.  Jesus  help  me,  how  he  had  used  to  fight !  He 
used  to  put  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  coming  in  here  all  blood 
and  muck  to  wash  himself  afore  he  went  home.  But  take 
your  things  off  and  make  yourself  at  home." 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  hear  a  too  full  and  too  true  account 
of  me,  madam,  while  I  am  away,"  said  I.  "  Soldiers  are 
likely  to  call,  but  you  can  leave  Mistress  Tonks  to  deal  with 
them.  Still,  please  discard  your  own  jacket  and  hat,  and 
wear  mother's  domino.  It's  homely  and  country-like,  and 
you  must  pull  the  hood  over  your  head,  since,  if  your  hair 
has  been  described,  and  any  soldier  who  calls  has  heard  of  it, 
he  will  have  to  be  blind  not  to  notice  it." 

"  Yes,  it's  dreadful  stuff,"  she  said,  with  amusing 
meekness. 

"  So  dreadful,  madam,"  said  I  soberly,  "  that  all  England 
cannot  match  it.  Therefore  you  must  hide  it,  lest  it  should 
shock  some  poor  soldier  who  comes  seeking  a  billet  and  finds 
it." 

She  took  off  her  hat,  preparing  to  do  what  I  asked,  and 


34  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

the  wondrous  yellow  hair,  coils  upon  coils  of  it,  was  revealed. 
"  Jesus  help  me,"  said  little  Marry-me-quick  in  a  hushed 
voice,  "  the  back  of  her  head  looks  like  a  harvest  moon. 
If  the  same  God  that  made  her  ladyship  made  me,  we  shall 
begin  life  in  heaven  with  a  row,  that's  all  I've  got  to  say." 

I  smiled  at  the  quaint  conceit  of  the  little  woman,  which 
lost  its  irreverence  towards  God  in  its  reverence  for  His 
handiwork.  "  Now  mother  Tonks,"  said  I,  "  I  leave  this 
lady  in  your  charge  for  a  tune  while  I  go  into  the  town  to 
see  Master  Dobson.  I  may  be  away  some  time,  and  you'll 
get  us  some  supper.  Anything  you  have  will  do." 

"  Anything  I  have  ?  "  she  echoed  scornfully.  "  I've  got 
one  of  them  rabbits  you  sent  me  last  market  day  by  that 
lozzicking  Joe  Braggs,  but  he's  a  good  gorby  is  Joe  " — here 
her  voice  softened,  and  madam  smiled  agreement — "  and 
this  frost  has  kept  it  as  sweet  as  a  nut.  If  you're  not  too 
hungry  to  wait,  I'll  make  you  some  rabbit-stew." 

"  Rabbit-stew  ?  I'll  wait  for  that,  and  I'm  sure  Mistress 
Waynflete  will,"  said  I. 

"  I'll  live  on  marry-me-quick  in  the  meantime,"  she 
replied,  laughing. 

"  I  leave  you  then  in  good  hands,  and  hope  to  come 
back  with  cheerful  news,"  I  said,  bowing  low,  and  stepped 
forth  on  my  errand. 

I  turned  to  the  left  and  fifty  paces  brought  me  into  the 
main  street.  A  gun  and  a  train  of  wagons  were  rumbling 
over  the  bridge,  convoyed  by  a  handful  of  dragoons  and  a 
riff-raff  of  noisy  lads  and  lasses.  Late  and  cold  as  it  was, 
the  main  street  was  thronged  as  on  a  fair  day  at  noon. 
Most  of  the  shops,  especially  those  that  dealt  in  provisions, 
were  open  and  full  of  vociferous  customers,  while  every  ale- 
house was  a  pandemonium.  The  street  was  choked  with 
townspeople  and  soldiery ;  lanterns  flickered  and  torches 
flamed  ;  oath  and  jest,  bravado  and  buffoonery,  filled  the  air. 

I  pushed  my  way  to  the  market-place.  Here  about  a 
dozen  guns  were  parked,  and  at  least  a  hundred  horses 
tethered.  At  each  corner  a  huge  fire  cracked  and  roared. 
The  town  hall  was  a  blaze  of  light,  and  I  heard  from  passers- 
by  that  the  mayor  and  council  had  been  in  session  since 
noon.  The  current  rumour  was  that  the  Stuart,  with  fifty 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  35 

thousand  Highlanders,  savages  who  disembowelled  women 
for  sport  and  roasted  children  for  food,  had  sacked  Manchester 
and  was  now  marching  south,  with  hell  in  his  heart  and 
desolation  in  his  train.  If  one-hundredth  of  it  were  true, 
the  worthy  mayor  had  his  work  cut  out,  for  the  town  was 
so  ill-found  that  it  would  have  fallen  to  a  bombardment  of 
turnips. 

I  took  my  stand  on  the  town-hall  steps  to  scan  the  scene 
and  collect  my  thoughts.  And  here  I  had  the  best  of  luck, 
for  who  should  come  clanking  down  the  steps  but  Jack 
Dobson.  I  had  no  need  to  envy  him  now,  having  better  work 
on  hand  than  his,  but  even  if  the  mood  of  the  midday  had 
been  prevailing,  it  would  have  disappeared  before  his  hearty 
greeting 

"  Noll,  by  gad,  Noll,"  he  cried,  wringing  my  hand 
joyously.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  bully-boy;  I  thought  you 
were  sulking  in  your  tent  like — like,  you  know  his  name,  the 
fellow  old  Bloggs  was  always  yarning  about." 

"  Iphigenia,"  said  I. 

"  Was  that  the  chap  ?  "  he  said  cheerily.  "  And  now  I've 
got  you,  come  along  to  the  house.  I've  more  to  tell  you 
than  there  is  in  all  your  silly  old  Virgil,  and  it's  alive,  man, 
alive,  alive.  That's  why  it  suits  me.  Come  along,  Noll. 
Lord  Brocton's  supping  and  staying  with  dad,  so's  Sneyd, 
and  a  lot  more,  and  you'll  hear  all  the  news.  Brocton's  a 
beast,  and  I'm  glad  I'm  an  officer,  if  it's  only  a  cornet  in  his 
rotten  dragoons.  There'll  be  one  beast  less  in  the  world,  I'm 
thinking,  before  long." 

"  What's  he  done  to  upset  you  ?  " 

"  I  say,  Noll,"  was  his  reply,  "  Kate  did  look  sweet  this 
afternoon.  I  was  glad  to  have  her  come  and  see  me  off 
to  the  wars.  I  only  had  a  few  snatches  of  talk  with  her. 
Brocton  was  for  ever  finding  me  something  to  do,  rot  him, 
but  she  did  look  sweet." 

"  All  right,  if  she  did.     Never  mind  our  Kate." 

"  Never  mind  your  Kate,  you  barbarian,  you  one-eyed 
anthropa thingamy  !  Oh,  Noll,  old  friend  " — there  was  a  catch 
in  his  voice  as  he  dragged  me  into  the  entry  at  the  side  of  old 
Comfit's  shop, — "  she's  your  Kate  now,  but  if  I  come  back,  I 
want  her  to  be  my  Kate.  Don't  breathe  a  word  to  her,  Noll, 


36  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

unless  I  never  come  back, — war  has  its  risks,  Noll,  and  I'm 
going  to  take  'em  all, — but  if  I  never  come  back,  Noll,  just  tell 
Kate  that  I  loved  her." 

A  plump  of  townspeople  yelled  their  way  past  the  entry, 
and  their  torches  lit  up  his  fresh,  boyish  face,  all  alight  with 
the  enthusiasms  of  war  and  love.  I  clasped  his  hand,  and  we 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  I'm  glad  to  tell  you,  Noll." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Jack.     Come  back,  for  Kate's  sake." 

The  good  fellow  bubbled  with  joy  at  the  meaning  in  my 
words,  and  we  continued  our  way  up  the  entry,  intending  a 
detour  where  we  could  talk  in  quiet,  but  before  we  had  got 
out  of  the  glare  of  the  torches,  he  stopped  me,  looked  search- 
in  gly  at  me  and  said,  "  Old  Noll,  there's  more  in  your  head 
now  than  Virgil."  This  confirmed  my  suspicion  that  Master 
Jack  Dobson  was  learning  in  his  way  more  than  I  had  learned 
in  mine. 

"  Fanning,"  said  I.     "  Tell  me  why  Brocton  is  a  beast." 

"  He  thinks  every  pretty  woman  a  butterfly  for  his  filthy 
fingers  to  crush  the  beauty  out  of.  But  if  he  rolls  his  beast's 
tongue  round  one  name,  either  he  or  I  will  want  that  ferryman 
chap.  What's  his  name  ?  " 

"  Charon,"  said  I,  forgetting  to  tease  him. 

"That's  him,  Charon,  I'm  sure  you're  right  this  time. 
I  wasn't  sure  about  the  sulky  old  boy  in  the  tent.  I  always 
thought  Iphi-something  was  the  one  that  got  his  throat — 
Abram  and  Isaac  sort  of  tale  without  any  ram  and  thicket 
at  the  end  of  it — but  of  course  you'll  be  right." 

"  And  what  sort  of  dragoons  are  you  cornet  of  ?  "  I  asked. 

"They  give  me  the  bats,  Noll.  There's  about  two 
hundred  town-sweepings,  not  worth  powder  and  shot,  who 
want  tying  on  their  horses,  and  hardly  know  butt  from 
bayonet,  and  there's  another  two  hundred  better  men,  got 
together  coming  along,  or  in  the  country  around  Lichfield. 
Sneyd,  a  rattling  good  fellow,  and  I  have  tossed  for  stations, 
and  when  it  comes  to  a  battle  he's  to  lead  the  yokels  and  I'm 
to  follow  behind,  kicking  the  scum  of  London  into  the  firing- 
line.  Damn  'em.  But  I'll  kick  'em  right  enough.  Then 
there's  Major  Tixall — major,  by  gad — a  slinking  cut-throat, 
with  a  face  the  colour  of  pigs'  liver.  What  he's  majoring  it 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  37 

for,  Brocton  and  the  devil  alone  know.  The  only  good  thing 
is  we've  got  a  first-rate  drill  sergeant.  He's  Brocton's  toady, 
and  for  that  I  don't  like  him,  but  he  does  know  his  business,  I 
must  say  that  for  him." 

"  Big-headed  man,  with  a  mouth  slit  up  to  his  left  ear  ?  " 
said  I,  seizing  the  welcome  opportunity. 

"  How  the  deuce  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Jack,  astonished. 

"  He  came  searching  the  Hanyards  this  afternoon  for  a 
Jacobite  spy,  a  woman.  But  he  didn't  find  her.  She  slipped 
through  his  fingers  somehow.  I  understood  from  big-mouth 
that  you'd  caught  her  father.  What  have  you  done  with 
him  ?  Is  he  crow's  meat  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  for  some  reason  or  other,  which  is  a  mystery  to 
me,  Brocton  sent  him  on  with  the  van." 

"  Here  ?  " 

"  No,  farther  on.  Their  orders  are  to  push  into  Stone 
to-day,  and  Newcastle  to-morrow.  They  ought  to  be  in 
touch  with  the  enemy  there.  Of  course  it's  not  certain 
which  way  they'll  come,  and  if  they  come  this  way,  Noll, 
mark  you,  we've  made  a  mistake.  We  ought  to  have  waited 
for  'em  at  Milford.  We  could  have  blown  'em  to  bits  from 
the  top  of  the  hills,  long  before  they  could  have  got  at  us." 

Our  talk  had  brought  us  to  an  alley  containing  a  side 
entrance  to  Master  Dobson's  fine,  old,  timbered  house,  the 
pride  of  the  town  and  known  there  as  the  "  Ancient  High 
House."  It  stood  on  the  main  street  of  the  town,  which 
led  from  the  bridge  to  the  market-place.  For  a  moment 
I  was  undecided,  since  I  had  obtained  the  news  that  mattered 
most,  but  I  had  only  been  out  a  short  time,  the  rabbit-stew 
would  not  be  ready,  Mistress  Waynflete  was  safe  and  com- 
fortable, and  might  prefer  to  be  alone,  it  was  possible  that 
I  might  learn  something  further — and  on  these  grounds 
I  decided  that  it  would  be  well  worth  while  to  accept  Jack's 
invitation.  I  therefore  followed  him  into  the  withdrawing- 
room.  Here  I  paid  due  courtesies  to  buxom  Mistress  Dobson 
and  Mistress  Priscilla  Dobson,  Jack's  oldest  sister,  a  wasp- 
waisted  bundle  of  formalities,  for  ever  curtsying  and 
coquetting,  after  the  London  mode  as  she  fondly  imagined. 
My  back  fairly  ached  with  answering  bobs  and  bows  before 
we  had  drunk  our  part  of  a  dish  of  tea,  which  Mistress 


38  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Dobson  had  brewed  wherewith  to  refresh  herself  after  the 
toils  of  hospitality,  but  at  last  I  jerked  my  way  out  at 
Jack's  heels,  and  we  climbed  to  the  stately  barrel-roofed 
room  where  the  great  ones  were  assembled. 

Horseshoe-wise  round  a  mighty  fire  of  logs,  with  a  small 
table  covered  with  decanters  and  glasses  between  each  pair, 
some  dozen  men  sat  at  their  wine.  There  was,  of  course, 
Master  Dobson,  his  meagre  body  all  a  twitter  with  im- 
portance, sitting  in  the  centre  of  the  bend,  opposite  the 
fire,  whence  he  could  survey  all  his  guests  at  once,  and 
urge  them  on  with  their  carousing. 

"  My  son  returneth,  my  lord,"  he  said,  "  with  news 
from  the  worshipful  the  Mayor,  and  he  hath  brought  with 
him  a  worthy  yeoman,  one  Master  Wheatman,  who " 

"  Of  the  Hanyards,  Esquire,"  said  I  in  a  testy  whisper. 

"  Ha,  yes,"  he  corrected  and  compromised,  "  Master 
Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,  a  loyal  subject  of  His  Gracious 
Majesty." 

"  The  best  friend  and  hardest  hitter  in  broad  Stafford- 
shire," added  Jack  heartily. 

I  stepped  into  the  horseshoe  and  made  a  bow  general 
to  the  company,  and  a  lower  one  for  the  benefit  of  my  Lord 
Brocton,  who  sat  next  to  the  hearth  in  pride  of  place  and 
comfort.  Some  years  older  than  I,  but  not  yet  thirty, 
handsome  as  a  god  carved  by  Phidias,  but  with  drink  and 
devilment  already  marking  him  out  for  a  damned  soul,  he 
sat  there,  the  idol  of  that  lord-worshipping  company.  The 
only  vacant  chair  was  on  his  left.  It  was  Jack's  place, 
earned  by  his  father's  guineas,  which  had  remained  vacant 
during  his  absence.  The  good  lad,  I  record  it  with  pride, 
notwithstanding  a  forbidding  glance  from  his  father, 
motioned  me  towards  it,  and  fetched  a  glass  and  poured  out 
wine  for  me.  As  I  was  stepping  forward  his  lordship  was 
good  enough  to  address  me. 

"  Ha,  Master  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards," — there  was 
a  sneer  in  his  voice, — "  it  is  well  I  see  thee  on  the  right  side, 
or,  by  gad  and  His  Gracious  Majesty,  we'd  have  that  other 
five  hundred  acres  of  yours."  He  tossed  off  a  bumper  of 
wine  and  added,  "Or  a  solatium,  Master  Wheatman,  a 
solatium." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  39 

I  caught  Jack's  eye  as  I  stepped  right  into  the  middle 
of  the  group.  To  my  astonishment  it  was  glowing  with 
anger.  Did  he  not  think  I  could  take  care  of  myself  ? 
Really  Jack  was  becoming  mysterious,  but  I  supposed 
that  as  I  was  Kate's  brother  he  was  feeling  unusually  in- 
terested in  my  welfare.  For  my  own  part  I  was  quite 
comfortable,  and  I  replied  easily,  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  my 
lord,  I  have  chosen  my  side  expressly  on  account  of  the 
well-known  propensities  of  your  lordship's  family." 

For  a  full  minute  nothing  was  heard  in  the  room  but 
the  cracking  and  sputtering  of  the  fire.  This  was  not  be- 
cause of  what  I  had  said,  though  no  one  present,  and  he 
least  of  all,  could  be  fool  enough  to  misunderstand  it,  but 
because  of  its  effect  on  him.  Then,  as  now,  blood  flowed 
like  water  on  far  lighter  occasions  than  this,  and  Brocton, 
with  all  his  faults,  was  a  ready  fighter.  For  once,  however, 
his  fingers  did  not  seek  his  sword  hilt,  but  fumbled  with  his 
empty  glass,  and  his  face  went  white  as  the  ashes  at  his 
feet.  At  length  he  recovered  himself  somewhat. 

"  The  loyal  propensities  of  my  family  are  well  known  to 
all  men,"  he  said. 

"  And  its  determination  to  profit  by  them,"  I  retorted 
coldly,  and  plumped  me  down  at  his  side. 

Right  opposite  me  was  the  rector,  a  gross,  sack-faced, 
ignorant  jolt-head,  jowled  like  a  pig  and  dew-lapped  like  an 
ox.  Nature  had  meant  him  for  a  butcher,  but,  being  a  by- 
blow  of  a  great  house,  a  discerning  patron  had  diverted  him 
bishopward.  In  a  voice  husky  with  feeling  and  wine,  he  said, 
"  Surely  it  is  the  part  of  a  gracious  king  to  reward  such 
faithful  service  as  that  of  the  noble  Earl  of  Ridgeley  and  my 
Lord  Broctort." 

"  Decidedly,  your  reverence,"  I  answered  briskly,  "  and 
of  others  too,  and  if,  as  seems  likely,  the  Highlanders  have 
left  a  vacant  deanery  or  two  behind  them,  I  hope  your  loyal 
services  and  pastoral  life  will  be  suitably  rewarded  with 
one." 

Here  Jack  drew  up  another  chair  and  I  moved  to  make 
more  room,  so  that  he  could  sit  next  to  Brocton,  to  whom  he 
was  soon  detailing  in  eager  whispers  the  result  of  his  visit 
to  the  town  hall.  The  others  took  up  the  broken  links  of 


40  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

talk,  and  this  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  inspecting  the 
company. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  about  the  man  on  my  left.  His 
vicious,  pimply  face  manifested  him  Major  Tixall,  and 
Mistress  Margaret's  shudder  was  easily  accounted  for.  He 
turned  his  shoulder  to  me  and  talked  to  another  officer, 
who,  so  far,  was  only  in  his  apprenticeship  at  the  same  game. 
Beyond  were  two  other  officers  of  a  wholly  different  stamp, 
and  the  one  who  smiled  at  me  with  his  eyes  I  took  to  be  Sir 
Ralph  Sneyd,  a  young  Staffordshire  baronet  of  high  repute. 
Then  came  Master  Dobson,  separating  the  military  sheep 
from  the  civilian  goats.  There  was  the  Friday-faced  clothier 
and  mercer,  Master  Allwood,  strange  company  here  since  he 
was  the  elder  of  a  dissenting  congregation  in  the  town,  and 
therefore  well  separated  from  his  reverence.  The  worthy 
mercer's  dissent  did  not  extend,  so  rumour  had  it,  to  the 
making  of  hard  bargains,  and  doubtless  he  was  for  once 
hob-nobbing  with  the  great  in  respect  of  his  long  purse  rather 
than  of  his  long  prayers.  Other  townsmen,  whose  names 
I  did  not  know  or  cannot  recall,  separated  deacon  from 
rector. 

The  last  man  in  the  company,  sitting  opposite  to  his 
lordship,  was  a  stranger,  and  by  far  the  man  best  worth 
looking  at  in  the  room.  He  had  drawn  back  a  little,  either 
out  of  the  heat  of  the  fire  or  to  avoid  his  reverence's  vinous 
gossip  as  much  as  possible.  Except  that  he  was  certainly 
neither  soldier  nor  parson,  and  probably  not  a  lawyer,  I  could 
make  nothing  of  him.  He  had  a  massive  head  and  a  resolute 
and  intelligent  face.  He  wore  no  wig  and  his  hair  was  grey 
and  closely  cropped.  I  judged  him  to  be  a  man  nearing  sixty, 
but  he  appeared  strong  and  vigorous.  He  was  dressed  with 
rich  unostentation,  in  grey  jacket  and  breeches,  with  a  lighter 
grey,  silver-buttoned  waistcoat,  and  stockings  to  match. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  be  talked  about  in  any 
company  in  Stafford  that  night.  What  was  going  to  happen  ? 
What  of  truth  and  substance  was  there  in  the  rumours  that 
filled  all  mouths  ?  At  Master  Dobson's  two  currents  of 
opinion  ran  violently  in  opposite  directions.  The  soldiers 
on  my  left  were  of  course  certain  that  the  Stuart  Prince  and 
his  Highland  rabble  would  be  driven  back.  The  towns- 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  41 

people  opposite  were  equally  impressed  with  the  fact  that  so 
far  he  had  not  been  driven  back  but  had  carried  all  before 
him. 

Sir  Ralph  had  been  stoutly  maintaining  that  the  rebellion 
was  hopeless.  "  There's  no  getting  away  from  it,  Sir  Ralph," 
squeaked  Master  Dobson,  summing  up  for  the  doubtful 
townsmen ;  "  between  the  rebels  and  us  this  night  there's 
not  thirty  miles  nor  three  hundred  men,  and  you've  so  far 
only  got  about  two  thousand  men  in  Stafford.  I'm  as  loyal 
a  man  as  any  in  England,  but  there's  no  getting  away  from 
that." 

"  Nobody  wants  to  get  away  from  it,  Master  Dobson," 
replied  Sir  Ralph.  "  Any  body  of  men  with  arms  in  their 
hands  and  the  knack  of  using  them,  can  march  much  farther 
than  the  Highlanders  have  come,  if  no  other  body  of  armed 
men  stands  in  their  way.  The  Stuart  Prince's  march  will 
come  to  an  end  just  as  soon  as  he  is  opposed,  and  we're  here 
to  oppose  him." 

Master  Dobson  was  still  gloomy.  "  What  sort  of  men 
have  you  got  ?  Raw  militia  lads,  young  recruits,  and  newly 
raised  dragoons  form  at  least  half  of  your  force  in  Stafford." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Sir  Ralph,  "  but  we're  rapidly  licking 
'em  into  shape,  and  the  Duke  will  be  after  us  to-morrow  with 
the  regulars." 

"  My  good  Sir  Ralph,"  put  in  the  mercer,  "  fifty  thousand 
savage  Highlanders  will  cut  through  Stafford  as  easily  as  if 
it  were  a  Cheshire  cheese.  I  fear  the  worst." 

"  My  worthy  sir,"  said  his  lordship,  and  in  his  dulcet 
tones  I  heard  the  tinkle  of  the  mercer's  guineas,  "  you  need 
fear  nothing.  Neither  stick  nor  stone  in  Stafford  will  be 
disturbed.  We  are  at  least  strong  enough  to  make  good 
terms." 

"  And  Mistress  Allwood,"  said  the  rector  with  a  leer, 
"  will  be  spared  the  wastage  of  her  charms  on  a  ragged 
Highlander." 

The  mercer's  wife  had  all  the  charms  of  a  withered  apple, 
but  here  was  opening  for  discord,  and  our  twittering  host 
staved  it  off  by  appealing  to  the  stranger  :  "  What  do  you 
think,  Master  Freake,  of  the  way  things  are  going  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  formed  an  opinion  as  to  what  is  likely  to 


42  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

happen  here,  good  Master  Dobson,"  he  replied,  "  but,  speak- 
ing generally,  I  should  feel  much  easier  in  mind  if  the  Duke's 
horses  were  not  so  utterly  worn  out." 

There  was  a  distinct  note  of  patronage  in  the  tone  in 
which  this  shrewd  and  sensible  remark  was  uttered,  nor  was 
this  affected,  I  thought,  but  rather  the  natural  manner  of  a 
strong  man  speaking  to  a  weak  one. 

"  Egad,  you're  right  there,  sir,"  cried  Jack.  "  Nineteen 
out  of  twenty  of  them  couldn't  be  flayed  into  doing  another 
five  miles.  I  was  over  an  hour  getting  them  from  Milford, 
under  five  miles." 

"  The  Highlanders  would  march  it  in  less,"  replied  Master 
Freake,  "  and  this  is  not  a  campaign,  but  a  race." 

"  Where  to  ?  "     It  was  Brocton  who  spoke. 

"  London,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  That's  the  heart  of 
England,  my  lord,  and  if  Prince  Charles  gets  into  the  heart 
he  need  not  be  concerned  over  Wade  marking  time  in  the 
heels  or  the  Duke  sprawling  about  in  its  belly." 

"  Your  speech  is  light,  Master  Freake,"  said  the  rector 
with  drunken  sense  and  gravity.  "  I  trust  it  savoureth  not 
of  treasonable  hopes." 

I  turned  during  this  absurd  remark  to  glance  at  Brocton 
to  see  what  effect  this  excellent  summary  of  the  situation 
had  had  on  him.  To  my  surprise  I  caught  him  looking  so 
meaningly  at  the  pimple-faced  Major,  that  I  felt  sure  some- 
thing was  going  to  happen,  and  I  was  right. 

"  God  rot  the  man,"  said  the  Major  thickly.  "  Does  he 
say  that  I'm  sprawling  about  in  somebody's  belly  ?  "  He 
staggered  to  his  feet,  hand  on  sword,  and  made  to  cross 
to  the  stranger,  shouting,  "  Damnation  to  you,  I'll  thrust 
something  into  your  belly  !  " 

Brocton,  not  in  the  least  to  my  surprise,  made  no  attempt 
to  interfere.  Jack  couldn't,  for  I  was  in  the  way.  His 
father  began  to  splutter  helplessly.  I  shot  out  my  foot, 
and  swept  the  Major  heavily  to  the  floor.  I  plucked  him  up 
by  his  collar  as  if  he  were  a  rabbit,  and  choked  him  till  his 
face  was  nearly  black.  Then  I  put  him  back  in  his  chair, 
where  he  sat  huddled  up  and  gasping. 

"  Sir,"  said  I  to  him,  with  much  politeness,  "  you  are  tired 
by  the  exertions  of  the  evening.  But  I  like  a  man  who 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  43 

sticks  up  for  his  commander,  and  desire  to  have  the  honour 
of  drinking  your  health."  And  I  toasted  him  complacently, 
smiling  the  while  into  his  little  pig's  eyes. 

This  terminated  the  trouble,  which  Master  Freake  had 
watched  with  quiet  amusement.  For  my  own  part  I  was 
now  anxious  to  go,  for  I  was  learning  nothing.  Accident 
favoured  me,  for  a  servant  came  in  and  whispered  something 
to  Brocton  which  took  him  out  of  the  room.  I  seized  the 
opportunity  to  follow,  declining  to  allow  Jack  to  accompany 
me,  and  wishing  him  good-bye  and  good  luck.  "  Remember 
about  Kate,"  were  his  last  words,  whispered  eagerly  as  he 
loosed  my  hand  and  opened  me  the  door. 

Several  rooms  opened  on  the  landing,  and  I  noticed  that 
one  door  was  ajar.  As  I  passed  the  slit  of  light  I  caught  sight 
of  the  sergeant  of  dragoons,  and  stopped  beyond  the  door  to 
listen.  I  heard  Brocton's  voice,  and  caught  the  words, 
"  Egad,  I'll  e'en  try  her.  Take  the  best  horse  available. 
There's  no  danger,  but  speed  is  everything."  He  dropped 
his  voice  to  a  whisper  and  for  a  moment  or  two  I  caught 
nothing.  Then,  raising  his  voice  again,  he  said,  "  And  now 
for  your  prize."  I  heard  him  move  to  go,  and  darted  ahead, 
silent  as  a  bat  in  a  barn,  and  a  moment  later  was  in  the 
noisy  street.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  me  now,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  I  quietly  lifted  Marry-me-quick's  latch,  stepped 
into  the  room,  and  observed  at  once  that  Mistress  Waynflete's 
look  imported  news. 

"  Now,  little  mother,"  said  I  to  Mistress  Tonks,  "  supper's 
the  blessedest  word  I  know." 

"  And  the  rabbit-stew's  as  good  as  done  by  now,"  she 
said,  and  went  into  the  back  room  to  dish  it  up. 

"The  man  with. the  slit  face  has  been,"  said  Mistress 
Waynflete  composedly.  "  He  came  hunting  for  quarters, 
but  Mistress  Tonks  frightened  him  off.  At  any  rate,  he  soon 
left." 

"  Did  he  recognize  you  as  '  Moll '  of  the  Hanyards  ?  " 

"  I'm  quite  sure  that  he  did  not.  I  turned  my  back  the 
moment  he  entered,  and  my  hood  was  up.  Moreover,  I  did 
not  speak  a  word.  Mother  Tonks  said  that  I  was  staying 
here  for  the  night  because  my  father's  house  was  full  of 
soldiers.  She  couldn't  and  wouldn't,  she  said,  have  a  soldier 


44  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

here  for  all  the  worshipful  mayors  in  England.  I  was  quite 
amused  at  the  way  she  talked  him  back  to  the  door  and 
through  it." 

The  little  woman  bustled  in  to  ay  the  supper  things. 
She  was  bubbling  over  with  elation.  "  It'll  be  another  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes,  will  the  rabbit-stew.  The  lady  will  have 
told  you  about  ugly  mug,  Master  Oliver.  I  got  him  out  in 
no  time.  His  head  was  all  mouth  like  a  cod-fish.  I'll  soon 
be  back.  I  expect  you're  both  hungry." 

Off  she  bustled  again,  and  we  again  settled  down  to  our 
talk.  I  was  anxious  to  see  if  she  could  throw  any  light  on 
Brocton's  dealing  with  her  father.  His  conduct  was  to  me 
wholly  inexplicable.  Then,  too,  there  was  his  obvious 
understanding  with  Major  Tixall  in  the  matter  of  the  latter's 
attack  on  Master  Freake.  Who  was  this  stranger  and  why 
had  he  incurred  Brocton's  enmity  ?  Here  was  a  whole 
string  of  puzzles  awaiting  solution.  But  before  I  could  start 
the  conversation  we  were  again  interrupted.  The  latch 
clicked,  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  my  Lord  Brocton. 


CHAPTER   VI 
MY  LORD  BROCTON 

I  WAS  as  new  to  a  life  of  action  as  an  hour-old  duckling 
is  to  water,   and  this  ironical  upset  of  all  my  plans 
left  me  helpless.     The  very  last  man  whom  I  wanted 
to  see  Mistress  Waynflete  was  here,  his  plumed  hat  sweeping 
to    the  floor,   triumph  on   his   handsome   face  and  in  his 
easy,  languid  tones.     Indeed,  more  astonishing  than  his  being 
here,  was  his  manner  and  bearing.     At  Master  Dobson's,  a 
natural  remark  of  mine  had  beaten  all  his  wits  -out  of  him. 
Here  his  assurance  was  such   that  it   puzzled  me  out  of 
action. 

"  My  sergeant,  madam,"  he  began,  "  no  mean  judge, 
since  he  has  seen  the  reigning  beauties  of  half  the  capitals  of 
Europe,  told  me  to  expect  a  prize,  but  it  is  the  prize.  Master 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  45 

Wheatman,  you  are  not,  I  am  told,  as  good  a  judge  of  cattle 
as  Turnip  Townshend,  but  you  are,  let  me  tell  you,  a  better 
one  of  women.  I  understand  you  know.  Both  acres  and 
solatium  shall  be  mine  in  any  event.  And,  dear  Margaret, 
though  I  do  not  understand  what  your  haughtiness  is  doing 
here  alone  with  my  farmer  friend,  I  need  hardly  say  that 
your  devoted  servant  greets  you  with  all  humility." 

Again  his  hat  curved  in  mockery  through  the  air.  He 
replaced  it  on  his  head,  drew  his  rapier,  with  quick  turns  of 
his  wrist  swished  the  supple  blade  through  the  air  till-  it  sang, 
then  flashed  it  out  at  me  like  the  tongue  of  an  adder,  and 
said,  "  Sit  you  still,  Farmer  Wheatman,  sit  you  still.  Move 
but  your  hand  and  I  spit  you  like  a  lark  on  a  skewer.  So, 
little  man,  so  !  " 

The  contempt  in  his  words  stirred  the  gall  in  my  liver, 
but  I  neither  spoke  nor  shifted,  and  he  continued,  addressing 
her,  but  with  cold,  amused  eyes  fixed  on  me,  "  You  see, 
sweet  Margaret,  how  yokel  blood  means  yokel  mood.  Your 
turnip- knight  freezes  at  the  sight  of  steel." 

In  part  at  least  he  spoke  truth.  I  had  rarely  seen  a 
naked  sword,  other  than  our  time-worn  and  useless  relic  of 
the  doughty  Smite-and-spare-not,  and  had  never  sat  thus 
at  the  point  of  one  drawn  in  earnest  on  myself.  It  is  easy 
to  blame  me,  and  at  the  back  of  my  own  mind  I  was  blaming 
and  cursing  myself,  as  I  sat  helpless  there.  I  was  keen  as 
the  blade  he  bore  to  help  her,  for  here  was  her  hour  of  utter- 
most need,  but  I  did  not  see  that  I  should  be  capable  of 
much  service"  with  a  hole  in  my  heart,  and  he  had  me  at  his 
mercy  beyond  a  doubt,  so  long  as  he  had  me  in  his  eye.  No, 
galling  as  it  was,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  the 
turn  of  events.  Something  might  divert  his  attention.  One 
second  was  all  I  wanted,  and  I  sat  there  praying  for  it  and 
ready  for  it.  Meanwhile  the  scene,  the  talk,  and  she  were 
full  of  interest. 

Marry-me-quick's  cottage  was  no  hovel,  either  for  size 
or  appointments.  Brocton  was  standing  with  his  back  to 
a  dresser.  On  his  left  was  the  outer  door,  and  on  his  right, 
between  him  and  Mistress  Waynflete,  the  door  in  the  party 
wall  leading  to  the  back  room  where  the  rabbit-stew  was 
now  being  dished  up.  Madam  and  I  sat  on  opposite  sides 


46  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

of  the  large  hearth,  a  small  round  table,  drawn  close  to  the 
fire  for  comfort  and  covered  with  the  supper  things,  occupied 
part  of  the  space  between  us,  but  there  was  plenty  of  room 
for  action.  When  Brocton  had  stretched  out  his  rapier 
towards  me  in  threat  and  command,  the  point  was  perhaps 
three  feet  from  my  breast,  and  he  could  master  my  slightest 
movement. 

And  Mistress  Waynflete.  At  the  bridge  in  the  afternoon 
I  had  noticed  that  while  danger  for  her  father  had  stirred 
her  heart  to  its  dearest  depth,  danger  for  herself  troubled 
her  not  one  whit.  When  I  looked  at  her  now  there  was  no 
fear  in  her  face,  which  was  calm  as  the  face  of  a  pictured 
saint,  but  I  saw  questionings  there  and  knew  they  were  of 
me.  Plainly  as  if  she  spoke  the  words,  her  great  blue  eyes 
were  saying,  "  Am  I  leaning  on  a  broken  reed  ?  "  As  she 
caught  my  look  she  turned  to  Brocton,  and  I  gritted  my  teeth 
and  listened. 

"  So  your  lordship  has  found  me  !  "  She  spoke  easily  and 
lightly.  "  How  small  the  world  must  be  since  it  cannot 
find  room  for  me  to  avoid  you !  " 

"  Say  rather,  dear  mistress,  that  my  love  draws  me  un- 
erringly towards  you." 

"  I  thought  I  gathered  that  there  was  another  motive  for 
your  coming  here  to-night." 

"  Margaret,  believe  me,  I  am  distraught,"  he  said,  not 
wholly  in  mockery  it  seemed  to  me. 

"  So  distraught,  it  seems,  that  you  neglect  your  plainest 
duty  as  an  officer  in  order  to  corrupt,  if  you  can,  a  supposed 
country  maiden,  of  whom  you  have  heard  by  chance.  His 
Grace  of  Cumberland  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  such  devo- 
tion." 

"  Won't  you  listen  to  me,  Margaret  ?  You  know  I  love 
you." 

"  If  you  were  offering  me,  my  lord,  the  only  kind  of  love 
which  an  honourable  man  can  offer,  I  should  still  refuse  it. 
Your  reputation,  character,  and  person  are  all  equally  dis- 
agreeable to  me,  and  that  you  should  imagine  that  there  is 
even  the  smallest  chance  of  your  succeeding,  is  an  insult  for 
which,  were  I  a  man,  you  should  pay  dearly." 

"  On  the  contrary,  dear  Margaret,"  he  replied,  in  his  most 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  47 

silken  tones,  plainly  shifting  to  more  favourable  ground,  "  I 
fancy  that  the  chance  is  by  no  means  small." 

"  Your  fancy  does  not  interest  me,"  was  the  cold  reply. 

"  Every  woman  has  her  price,  if  I  may  adapt  a  phrase 
of  the  late  Sir  Robert's,  and  I  can  pay  yours.  Excuse  my 
frankness,  Margaret.  It  would  be  unpardonable  if  we  were 
not  alone.  Yon  cattle-drover  hardly  counts  as  audience, 
I  fancy,  for  he  is  already  as  good  as  strung  up  as  a  rebel." 

After  a  long  silence,  so  long  that  I  tried  to  find  an  ex- 
planation of  it,  she  said,  "  You  refer  to  my  father  ?  "  There  was 
a  quaver  in  her  voice  which  all  her  bravery  could  not  suppress. 

"  Exactly,  Margaret,  to  your  dear  father." 

"  In  times  like  this,  no  doubt,  your  conduct  in  arresting 
him  will  pass  for  legal,  but  fortunately  some  evidence  will  be 
required,  and  you  have  none.  The  fact  is  that  in  your  loyal 
zeal  you  have  acted  too  soon." 

"  I  thought  your  daughterly  instincts  would  be  aroused," 
he  answered,  scoffing  openly  as  he  saw  his  advantage.  "  They 
have  lain  dormant  longer  than  I  expected.  Believe  me, 
Margaret,  for  my  own  purposes  I  have  acted  in  the  very  nick 
of  time,  and  you  will  do  well  to  drop  your  unfounded  hopes 
of  the  future.  Your  father's  fate  is  certain  if  I  act,  for  I  can 
call  a  witness — you  remember  Major  Tixall,  a  beery  but 
insinuating  person — whose  evidence  is  enough  to  hang  him 
fifty  times  over.  Whether  or  not  I  produce  it  depends,  as  I 
say,  on  the  depth  of  your  affection  for  him." 

"  I  shall  know  how  to  save  my  father,  my  lord,  when  the 
time  comes.  Now,  perhaps,  having  played  your  last  card, 
you  will  leave  me." 

"  My  dear  Margaret,"  was  the  cool  reply,  "  your  innocence 
amazes  me.  My  last  card  !  Not  at  all,  sweet  queen.  You 
are  my  last  card." 

"  I  ?     How  so  ?  " 

"  You,  too,  are  a  rebel,  if  I  choose  to  say  the  word,  and  a 
dangerous  one  to  boot.  So  here's  your  choice  :  come  where 
love  awaits  you  or  go  where  the  gallows  awaits  you." 

"  And  if  I  could  so  far  forget  my  nature  as  to  come  where 
love  of  your  sort,  the  love  of  a  mere  brute  beast,  awaits  me, 
you  would  forget  everything  ?  " 

"  Everything,  Margaret." 


48  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Your  duty  to  your  King  included  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  There's  nothing  I  will  not  do,  or  leave 
undone,  at  your  behest  for  your  fair  sake." 

"  You  flatter  me,  my  lord,  far  above  my  poor  deserts. 
And  now,  if  your  lordship  will  excuse  me," — she  arose  at  the 
words,  pale  and  determined  as  death, — "  I  will  e'en  go  and 
give  myself  up  to  some  responsible  officer  and  acquaint  him 
with  your  conduct." 

"  He  would  not  believe  you,  my  sweet  Margaret." 

"  You  forget  I  have  a  witness,  my  lord."  For  the  first 
time  during  the  conversation  she  looked  across  at  me. 

"  He  would  not  be  there  to  witness,  Margaret.  Surely 
you  suppose  that  I  am  wise  enough  to  prevent  that  move. 
Keep  on  sitting  still,  Farmer  Oliver.  I'm  glad,  believe  me,  to 
see  you  so  interested.  A  difficult  piece  of  virtue  she  is,  to  be 
sure,  and  if  you  could  only  escape  a  hanging,  which  you  will 
not,  you  might  have  learned  to-night  a  useful  lesson  in  the 
art  of  managing  a  woman.  It's  an  art,  sir,  a  great,  a  curious 
art,  and  I  flatter  myself  I  am  somewhat  of  a  master  therein." 

All  this  time  he  had  kept  me  in  his  eye,  and  the  point  of 
his  rapier  was  ready  for  my  slightest  move.  It  had  grieved 
me  to  the  heart  to  hear  him  shame  this  noble  woman  so, 
bargaining  for  her  honour  as  lightly  as  a  marketing  house- 
wife chaffers  for  a  pullet.  How  she  had  felt  it,  I  could  judge 
in  part  by  the  deathly  paleness  of  her  face,  and  the  tight  hold 
she  was  keeping  on  herself.  She  dropped  into  her  chair  again 
and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  He  only  smiled  as  one  who 
presages  a  welcome  triumph.  I  kept  still  and  silent,  never 
moving  my  eyes  from  his,  praying  and  waiting  for  my 
second. 

She  raised  her  head  and  spoke  again  :  "  If  I  did  not  know 
you,  my  lord,  I  would  plead  with  you.  Two  men's  li ves  are 
in  my  hands,  you  say,  and  there  is  " — she  paused — "  but  one 
way  " — another  terrible  pause — "  of  saving  them." 

"  You  want  me  to  throw  in  the  cattle-drover  ?  "  he  asked 
gaily. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  a  scarcely  audible  whisper. 

"  It's  throwing  in  five  hundred  acres  of  land  each  of 
which  my  father  values  at  a  Jew's  eye,  let  me  tell  you,  but, 
egad,  Margaret,  you're  not  dear  even  at  that  Run  away 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  49 

home,  Farmer  Wheatman,  and  don't  be  fool  enough  to  play 
the  rebel  again." 

I  sat  still  and  silent.  Speech  was  useless,  and  action  not 
yet  possible.  That  keen  swordsman's  eye  must  be  diverted 
somehow.  There  was  a  God  in  heaven,  and  the  rabbit-stew 
would  be  ready  soon.  It  was  useless  to  attempt  to  force 
matters.  And  as  for  his  taunts,  well,  he  was  but  feathering 
my  arrows.  So  I  sat  on  like  a  stone. 

"  Go,  Master  Wheatman,"  she  urged  faintly,  but  I  did  not 
even  turn  to  look  at  her.  My  heart  was  thumping  on  my 
ribs,  my  nerves  tingling,  my  muscles  involuntarily  tightening 
for  a  spring. 

"  These  yokels  are  so  dull  and  lifeless,  Margaret.  He 
cannot  understand  our  impatience."  Out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye  I  saw  her  crimson  to  the  roots  of  her  hair  at  this  vicious 
insult.  "  Off,  my  man,"  he  added  to  me,  "  or  I'll  prick 
your  bull's  hide."  He  thrust  out  his  rapier  to  give  point  to 
the  threat.  Nothing  moved  me.  My  eyes  were  glued  to  his. 

And  now  the  door  on  his  right  hand  opened,  and  little 
Mistress  Marry-me-quick  appeared  with  our  supper.  She 
saw  the  sword  directed  at  the  breast  of  the  one  man  on  earth 
she  loved  with  all  the  fervour  of  her  honest,  womanly  heart. 
The  sight  scattered  her  senses.  With  a  nerve-racking 
shriek  she  flopped  heavily  to  the  floor,  and  the  rabbit-stew 
flew  from  her  hands  and  crashed  loudly  at  his  feet.  It  was 
too  much  for  his  wine-sodden  nerves.  His  eyes  turned,  his 
body  slackened,  the  point  of  his  rapier  flagged  floorward. 
God  had  given  me  my  second. 

I  bounded  at  him,  not  straight,  but  somewhat  to  his  left. 
He  recovered,  but,  anticipating  a  straight  rush,  thrust  clean 
out  on  the  expected  line  of  my  leap.  His  blade  ran  through 
between  my  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  the  guard  thumped 
sore  on  my  ribs.  Then  he  was  mine. 

I  struck  hard  on  heart  and  belt  and  knocked  the  wind 
out  of  his  body.  He  sucked  for  breath  like  a  drowning  man. 
Now  he  could  not  call  for  help,  and  I  finished  him  off,  quickly, 
gladly,  and  smilingly.  His  twitching  fingers  fumbled  at 
his  belt  as  if  seeking  a  pistol.  Finding  none,  he  made  no 
further  attempt  to  defend  himself,  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  arms  to  keep  off  my  blows,  but  I  struck  him  with 

4 


50  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

such  fierce  strength  on  his  unprotected  temples  that  he 
weakened  and  dropped  them.  His  ghastly,  bleeding  face 
turned  upwards,  his  dazed  eyes  pleading  for  the  mercy  he 
had  denied  her  a  moment  ago.  It  was  brute  appealing 
to  brute  in  vain,  and  with  one  last  blow  on  the  chin  that 
drove  his  teeth  together  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol  and  nearly 
tore  his  head  off  his  shoulders,  I  knocked  him  senseless  to 
the  floor. 

His  rapier  hung  in  the  skirt  of  my  coat,  so  close  had  I  been 
to  sure  and  sudden  death.  I  drew  it  out  and  tossed  it  to 
the  floor  at  his  side.  "  I  wish,  madam,"  said  I,  reaching 
out  for  mother's  domino,  "  that  we  could  have  saved  the 
rabbit-stew." 

"Is  he  dead  ?  "  she  whispered,  with  white  lips,  coming 
forward  and  looking  shudder!  ngly  down  on  him  with  troubled 
eyes. 

"  No  such  luck,"  said  I.  "  He  may  be  round  in  five 
minutes,  but  that's  enough,  though  poor  little  Marry-me- 
quick  will  have  to  be  left  to  fend  for  herself."  I  helped 
her  into  the  domino,  pulled  the  hood  over  the  wonderful 
hair,  and  seized  my  own  hat. 

"  Now,  Mistress  Waynflete,"  said  I,  "  the  northern  hall 
of  Staffordshire  is  before  us,  and  the  sooner  some  of  it 
is  behind  us  the  better."  With  these  words  I  led  her  to 
the  door,  which  I  closed  carefully  behind  me,  and  into 
the  street. 

A  little  explanation  will  make  our  subsequent  movements 
clearer.  The  eastern  side  of  Stafford  is  roughly  bow-shaped. 
The  main  street  is  the  straight  string  and  the  wood  is  the 
curve  of  the  wall,  now  mostly  fallen  down  and  in  ruins,  the 
line  of  which  was  followed  by  the  street  we  were  in,  and 
only  some  fifty  yards  from  the  southern  end  of  the  string. 
The  marksman's  thumb  represents  the  market  square,  and 
the  arrow  the  line  of  the  east  gate  street. 

No  cat  in  the  town  knew  it  better  than  I  did,  or  could 
travel  it  better  in  the  dark.  Indeed,  our  only  danger  now 
came  from  the  moon,  but,  fortunately,  she  had  not  yet 
climbed  very  high.  Mistress  Waynflete  placed  her  arm 
in  mine  and  we  turned  to  the  right,  away  from  the  still 
noisy  and  crowded  main  street.  We  passed  an  ale-house 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  51 

bursting  with  customers,  the  central  figure  among  whom, 
plainly  visible  from  the  street,  was  Pippin  Pat,  an  Irishman 
with  so  huge  a  head  that  he  had  become  a  celebrity  under 
this  name  for  miles  around.  He  had  made  himself  rolling 
drunk  and,  suitably  to  the  occasion,  had  been  made  into  a 
Highlander  by  the  simple  process  of  robbing  him  of  his 
breeches  and  rubbing  his  head  with  ruddle.  He  was  a 
sorry  sight  enough,  but,  the  main  thing,  he  had  attracted 
an  enormous  company.  I  rejoiced  to  see  him,  for  it  meant 
that  the  wicket  of  his  master's  tanyard,  half  a  stone's  throw 
ahead,  would  be  unbolted.  This  would  save  us  a  longish 
detour  and  lessen  the  danger  of  being  observed. 

Arrived  at  the  tanyard  gate,  I  tried  the  wicket.  It  was 
unbolted,  as  I  had  anticipated,  and  we  were  soon  in  the 
quiet  and  obscurity  of  the  tanyard.  The  far  side  of  the 
yard  was  separated  by  a  low  stone  wall  from  the  end  of 
a  blind  alley  leading  into  Eastgate  Street.  I  guided  my 
companion  safely  by  the  edges  of  the  tan-pits,  and  on  arriving 
at  the  wall,  I  made  no  apology  but  lifted  her  on  to  it.  As 
she  sat  there  a  shaft  of  moonlight  lit  up  her  fine,  brave  face. 
I  feasted  my  eyes  upon  it  for  a  moment,  and  then  made 
to  leap  over  to  assist  her  to  the  other  side,  but  she  stayed 
me  with  a  hand  on  each  shoulder. 

"  I  will  go  no  farther,  Master  Wheatman,"  she  said  in  a 
low,  troubled  voice,  "  till  you  forgive  me." 

"  Forgive  you  ?  "  I  cried,  astounded.  "  Forgive  you  ? 
What  for?"  - 

"  For  thinking  meanly  of  you.  I  thought  you  were 
afraid  of  Brocton.  Not  until  that  lion  leap  of  yours  did  I 
realize  how  cleverly  and  nobly  you  had  sat  there  through 
his  insults,  foreseeing  the  exact  moment  when  you  could 
master  him.  My  only  explanation,  I  do  not  offer  it  as  an 
excuse,  is  that  the  utter  beast  in  Brocton  makes  it  hard 
for  me  to  think  well  of  any  man.  Oh,  believe  me,  I  am 
ashamed,  confounded,  and  miserable.  Say  you  forgive 
me ! " 

"  Madam,"  I  said  laughingly,  "  the  next  time  I  play  the 
knight-errant,  may  God  send  me  a  less  observant  damsel. 
There's  nothing  to  forgive.  The  plain  truth  is  that  I  was 
frightened,  a  little  bit.  But  I'm  new  to  this  sort  of  thing, 


52  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

and  I  hope  to  improve."  Then,  after  a  pause,  I  met  her 
eyes  full  with  mine  and  added,  "  As  we  go  on." 

"  Frightened,"  she  said  scornfully,  "  you  frightened, 
you  who  leaped  unarmed  on  the  best  swordsman  in  London  ? 
No,  don't  mock  me,  Master  Wheatman,  forgive  me." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  and  thank  you  for  your  kind  words. 
And  we've  both  got  some  one  to  forgive." 

She  smiled  radiantly — "  Whom  ?    And  what  for  ?  " 

I  leaped  over  the  wall,  and  put  my  arms  around  her  to 
lift  her  down. 

"  Marry-me-quick,  for  dropping  the  rabbit-stew." 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  RESULTS  OF  LOSING  MY  VIRGIL 

WE  slipped  down  the  blind  alley  and  came  out  in  the 
street  leading  to  the  East  Gate .  There  was  stil  1  great 
plenty  of  people  strolling  up  and  down,  for  night  had 
not  yet  killed  off  the  novelty  and  excitement  caused  by  the 
arrival  of  the  army.  The  smaller  houses  were  crowded 
with  soldiery,  hob-nobbing  with  the  folk  on  whom  they  were 
billeted,  and  all  were  yelling  out,  "  Let  the  cannakin  clink  !  " 
and  other  rowdy  ditties  in  the  intervals  of  drinking.  At  the 
East  Gate  itself,  a  fire  blazed,  and  pickets  warmed  them- 
selves round  it,  while  along  the  street  late-coming  baggage 
and  ammunition  wagons  were  trailing  wearily.  It  was 
idle  to  expect  to  pass  unseen,  so  we  plunged  into  the  throng, 
threaded  through  the  wagons,  and  skirted  leftward  till  we 
arrived  at  a  quieter  street  running  down  to  the  line  of  the  wall. 
Here  every  brick  and  stone  was  as  a  familiar  friend,  for 
the  little  grammar  school  backed  on  to  the  wall  at  the  very 
spot  where  the  main  street  led  through  the  old  north  gate 
of  the  town.  Old  Master  Bloggs  lived  in  a  tiny  house  on 
the  side  of  the  school  away  from  the  gate.  There  were  the 
candles  flickering  in  the  untidy  den  in  which  the  old  man 
passed  all  his  waking  hours  out  of  school-time,  and  there.. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  53 

I  doubted  not,  they  would  be  guttering  away  if  the  High- 
landers sacked  the  town.  I  led  the  way  across  the  little 
fore-court,  paled  off  from  the  street  by  wooden  railings, 
gently  opened  the  door,  and  walked  in  to  the  dark  passage. 

The  study  door  was  ajar,  and  we  peeped  in.  There  the 
old,  familiar  figure  was,  eyesight  feebler,  shoulders  rounder, 
hair  whiter,  and  clothing  shabbier  than  of  yore,  crumpled 
over  a  massive  folio.  He  was  reading  aloud,  in  a  mono- 
tonous, squeaky  half-pitch.  Latin  hexameters  they  were, 
for  even  his  voice  could  not  hide  all  the  music  in  them,  and 
as  I  listened  it  became  clear  that  the  old  man  had  that  night 
been  moved  to  select  something  appropriate  to  the  occasion, 
for  he  was  going  through  the  account  of  the  fall  of  Troy  in  the 
second  /Eneid. 

I  put  my  fingers  on  my  lips  and  crept  on,  followed  by 
Mistress  Waynflete.  In  the  little  back  room  I  whispered, 
"  My  old  school  and  schoolmaster.  We  will  not  disturb  the 
old  man.  Poor  little  Marry-me-quick  may  have  to  suffer 
on  our  account,  and  old  Bloggs  shall  at  any  rate  have  the 
excuse  of  knowing  nothing  about  us.  He's  happy  enough 
over  the  fall  of  Troy.  Nothing  that  he  can  do  can  help  us. 
Let  him  be." 

She  nodded  assent  and  I  looked  round.  Opening  a  cup- 
board, I  found  half  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  nipperkin  of  milk,  and  a 
rind  of  cheese.  "  Eat,"  said  I,  "  and  think  it's  rabbit-stew." 
I  made  her  take  all  the  milk,  but  shared  the  bread  and  cheese. 
Troy  went  on  falling  steadily  meanwhile,  and  when  we  had 
finished  our  scanty  nuncheon  I  once  more  led  the  way,  and  we 
passed  out  into  the  little  yard  behind  the  schoolhouse,  and 
gained  the  playground,  the  outer  boundary  of  which  was  the 
town  wall,  here  some  twelve  feet  high  and  in  a  fair  state  of 
preservation.  Many  generations  of  schoolboys  had  cut  and 
worn  a  series  of  big  notches  on  each  side  of  the  wall,  and  by 
long  practice  I  could  run  up  and  down  in  a  trice  to  fetch  ball 
or  tipcat  which  had  been  knocked  over. 

From  the  bridge  at  the  Hanyards  onwards,  Mistress 
Waynflete  had  always  acted  promptly  and  exactly  to  my  wish. 
I  felt  a  boor,  and  was  in  truth  a  boor,  in  comparison  with  her. 
Brocton's  '  yokel  blood '  gibe  had  put  murder  into  my 
blows,  but  it  had  truth  enough  in  it  to  make  it  rankle  like  a 


54  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

poisoned  arrow.  Yet  here  was  this  wonder-woman,  trustful 
as  a  child  and  meeker  than  a  milkmaid.  My  work  was  new, 
but  at  any  rate  I  had  sometimes  dreamed  that  I  could  do  a 
man's  work  when  I  got  my  chance,  and  I  had  limbs  of  leather 
and  steel  to  do  it  with.  My  thoughts,  however,  were  newer 
still,  and  had  no  background  of  daydreams  to  stand  against. 
Moreover,  things  had  gone  with  such  a  rush  that  I  had  had 
no  time  to  shake  and  sift  them  into  order.  At  the  foot  of 
that  wall  all  I  knew,  and  that  but  dimly,  was  that  there  were 
thoughts  that  made  a  man's  work  the  one  thing  worth  living 
for. 

"  Get  your  breath,  madam,"  said  I.  "  You  want  it  all 
now,  and  there's  no  need  to  hurry." 

She  leaned  easily  against  the  wall,  and  peered  round 
to  make  out  her  surroundings.  The  only  result  could  be  to 
give  her  the  impression  that  she  was  cooped  up  like  a  rat  in  a 
trap,  but  with  characteristic  indifference  for  herself,  she  only 
said  : 

"  And  this  was  your  school  ?  " 

"  For  many  years,  seven  or  more." 

She  was  silent  for  a  time  and  then  went  on. 

"  You  have  led  a  quiet  life,  Master  Wheatman  ?  " 

"  Ha,"  thought  I,  "  she's  gauging  my  capacity  to  help 
her,"  and  added  aloud,  bitterly  reminiscent,  "  The  life  of  a 
yokel,  madam." 

"  You  have  read  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  fond  of  reading.  It  passes  the  long  winter 
nights." 

"  And  no  doubt  you  know  by  heart  the  merry  gests  of 
Robin  Hood  and  the  admirable  exploits  of  Claude  Duval  ?  " 

I  felt  her  eyes  on  me  in  the  dark,  and  longed  for  the  sun 
so  that  I  could  see  the  blue  glint  in  them. 

"  No  such  rubbish,  indeed,"  said  I  hotly.  It  was  a  slight 
on  Master  Bloggs,  droning  away  yonder  at  the  fall  of  Troy, 
not  to  say  the  sweet  old  vicar. 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Livy  and  Caesar,  and  stuff  like  that,  but  mainly  Virgil." 

"  Then  it's  very,  very  curious,"  she  whispered  emphati- 
cally. 

No  doubt  yokel  blood  ought  not  to  run  like  wine  under 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  55 

the  mighty  pulse  of  Virgil,  and  I  sourly  asked,  "  What's 
curious,  madam  ?  Old  Bloggs  has  nothing  to  teach  except 
Latin,  and  I  happened  to  take  to  it.  Why  curious  ?  " 

"  Really,  Master  Wheatman,  not  curious  ?  Here  we  are 
in  a  narrow  yard  at  the  foot  of  a  high  wall.  I'm  perfectly 
certain  that  within  five  minutes  I  shall  be  whisked  over  to  the 
other  side.  And  you  got  that  out  of  Virgil  ?  " 

"  Straight  out  of  Virgil,  madam.  Stafford  was  our  Troy, 
and  this  the  wall  thereof.  I've  got  in  and  out  thousands  of 
times." 

She  peered  comically  around  the  dark  playground  and 
said  gaily,  "  I  see  no  wooden  horse.  There  should  be  one, 
I  know.  Master  Dryden  says  so,  and  he  knows  all  about 
Virgil." 

"  Poof,"  said  I.  "  If  old  Bloggs  heard  you,  he'd  tingle 
to  thrash  you  black  and  blue." 

"  He  couldn't  now  I've  got  my  breath  again,"  she  laughed. 

"I'm  glad  of  that.  Let  me  explain.  Here  is  a  ladder 
of  notches  in  the  wall,  left  and  right  alternately.  Feel  for 
them."  She  did  so,  and  I  went  on :  "  They  are  roughly 
three  feet  apart  on  each  side.  I'll  climb  up  first  and  assist 
you  up  the  last  few.  Your  skirts  will  trouble  you,  I  fear." 

"  Not  much,  for  I'll  turn  them  up."  She  promptly  did 
so,  and  fastened  the  edges  round  her  waist.  She  also  dis- 
carded the  long,  cumbrous  domino,  and  I  took  it  from  her. 

"  Watch  me,"  said  I,  "  and  follow  when  I  give  the  word. 
I'll  have  a  look  round  first." 

Up  I  went,  hand  over  hand,  as  easily  as  ever  I  had  done 
it.  I  crouched  down  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  which,  fortu- 
nately, lay  in  the  shadow  of  the  schoohouse.  I  saw  in  the 
sky  the  reflected  glare  of  a  fire  at  the  north  gate,  another 
picket  I  supposed,  but  there  were  houses  without  the  gate, 
and  these  were  dark  and  silent.  There  was  no  fear  of  our 
being  observed. 

"  Come  !  "  I  whispered. 

She  started  boldly  and  came  up  with  cheering  swiftness. 
I  spread  the  domino  in  readiness,  then  stretched  down  to 
help  her,  and  in  another  moment  she  was  sitting  the  wall  as 
a  saddle. 

"  Splendid,  for  a  novice,"  I  said. 


56  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  And  a  novice  in  skirts,  short  ones." 

She  went  first  down  the  other  side,  and  I  nearly  pitched 
headlong  in  assisting  her  as  far  down  as  possible.  She 
lowered  her  skirts  while  I  followed  and  then  I  helped  her  into 
the  domino,  rejoicing  in  the  silken  caress  of  her  hair  on  my 
hands  as  I  arranged  the  hood,  a  pleasant  piece  of  omciousness 
for  which  I  got  thanks  I  did  not  deserve,  and  off  we  started. 

Again  she  asked  nothing  as  to  what  we  were  going  to  do 
and  whither  we  were  bound.  The  blazing  windows  of  a 
comfortable  inn  might  have  been  in  sight  for  aught  she  cared 
to  all  outward  seeming.  Yet  here  she  was,  close  on  mid- 
night, in  bitterly  cold  weather,  stepping  out  into  rough  and 
unknown  country  in  company  with  a  man  she  had  only  known 
a  few  hours. 

I  went  ahead  and  thought  it  over.  For  ten  minutes  we 
picked  our  way  in  the  deep  shadow  along  the  foot  of  the  wall, 
per  opaca  locorum,  as  the  great  weaver  of  words  puts  it,  and 
then  I  turned  outwards  into  the  open  field  and  the  clear 
moonlight.  Of  her  own  accord  she  placed  her  arm  in  mine, 
and  we  stepped  it  out  bravely  together. 

"  We  are  in  unenclosed  land  here,"  I  explained.  "  On 
our  right  is  a  patch  which  varies  between  bog  and  marsh 
and  pool,  according  to  the  rains.  The  townsmen  call  it  the 
King's  Pool,  whatever  state  it  is  in.  Just  ahead,  you  can  see 
the  line  of  it,  is  a  little  stream,  the  Pearl  Brook.  If  it  isn't 
frozen  over  yet,  I  can  easily  carry  you  across,  as  it's  not  more 
than  six  inches  deep.  The  freemen  of  the  Ancient  Borough — 
yon  little  town  has  slumbered  there  nearly  eight  hundred 
years — have,  by  immemorial  custom,  the  right  of  fishing  in 
the  Pearl  Brook  with  line  and  bent  pin." 

"  They  do  not  catch  many  thirty-pound  jack,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  no.  But  it  was  here  I  learned  to  like  fishing, 
and  I  went  on  from  minnows  and  jacksharps  to  pike." 

"  And  wandering  damsels,"  she  interrupted,  with  a  laugh 
that  sounded  to  me  like  the  music  of  silver  bells.  A  minute 
later,  on  the  edge  of  the  brook,  she  said  vexedly,  "  And  it's 
not  frozen  over."  But  I  had  already  noticed  that  fact  with 
great  elation. 

"  Not  more  than  six  inches,  you  say,"  she  muttered,  and 
made  to  step  in. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  57 

"  And  if  it  were  not  so  much  as  six  barley-corns,"  I  said, 
"  I  would  not  suffer  you  to  wade  it.  What  am  I  for,  pray 
you,  madam  ?  " 

Without  more  ado,  I  lifted  her  once  more  in  my  arms — 
the  fourth  time  that  day — and  started.  I  cursed  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  Pearl  Brook.  I  could  almost  have  hopped  across 
it,  but  by  dawdling  aslant  the  stream  I  had  her  sweet  face 
near  mine  in  the  moonlight,  and  my  arms  round  her  proud 
body,  for  a  couple  of  minutes.  "  Yokel  blood  or  not,"  I 
thought,  "this  is  something  my  Lord  Brocton  will  never 
do." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  after  helping  her  up  a  short, 
steep  scarp,  we  stood  and  looked  back  on  the  little  town. 
Its  roofs  were  bathed  in  moonlight,  and  the  great  church 
tower  stood  out  in  grey  against  the  blue-black  sky.  Patches 
of  dull,  ruddy  glow  in  the  sky  marked  the  sites  of  the  picket- 
fires,  and  there  came  to  us,  like  the  gibbering  of  ghosts  in 
the  wind,  the  dying  notes  of  the  day's  excitement.  To  our 
left,  bits  of  silver  ribbon  marked  the  twistings  of  the  river, 
and  that  darker  line  in  the  distant  darkness  was  the  hills 
of  my  home  and  boyhood.  At  their  feet  was  the  Hanyards, 
and  Kate  and  mother.  There  was  a  little  mist  in  my  eyes, 
and  the  eyes  I  turned  and  looked  into  were  brimming  with 
tears. 

"  And  now,  Mistress  Waynflete,"  said  I,  "  let  us  on  to 
our  inn." 

"  Our  inn ! "  she  echoed,  and  there  was  dismay  in  her 
voice.  "  Our  inn,  and  I  haven't  a  pennypiece.  For  safety, 
I  put  my  hat,  my  riding  jacket,  and  my  purse  under  the  bed 
at  Marry-me-quick's,  and  the  fight  and  hurry  drove  them 
out  of  my  mind  completely." 

"  And  I'm  in  the  same  case  exactly,"  said  I,  and  laughed 
outright.  I  had  little  use  for  money  at  the  Hanyards,  least 
of  all  in  the  pockets  of  my  Sunday  best,  and  not  until  she 
told  me  her  plight  did  I  realize  the  fact  that  in  the  elation 
of  starting  from  home,  I  had  forgotten  that  money  might 
be  necessary.  Though  I  laughed,  I  watched  her  closely. 
Now  she  would  break  down.  No  woman's  heart  could  stand 
the  shock. 

"  My  possessions,"  she  said,  "  are  precisely  two  handker- 


58  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

chiefs,  one  of  Madame  du  Font's  washballs,  and  most  of  a 
piece  of  the  famous  marry-me-quick." 

I  had  been  mistaken.  She  made  no  ado  about  our  serious 
situation,  but  spoke  with  a  grave  humour  that  fetched  me 
greatly. 

"  Quite  a  lengthy  inventory,"  I  replied.  "  My  contribu- 
tions to  the  common  stock  are — "  and  I  fumbled  in  my  pockets 
— "  item,  one  handkerchief  ;  item,  a  pocket-knife  ;  item,  one 
pipe  and  half  a  paper  of  tobacco ;  item,  one  flask,  two-thirds 
full  of  Mistress  Kate  Wheatman's  priceless  peppermint 
cordial,  the  sovereign  remedy  against  fatigue,  cold,  care,  and 
the  humours ;  item,  something  unknown  which  has  been 
flopping  against  my  hip  and  is,  by  the  outward  feel  of  it, 
a  thing  to  rejoice  over,  to  wit,  one  of  Kate's  pasties." 

I  pushed  my  hand  down  for  it,  and  then  laughed  louder 
than  ever,  as  I  drew  forth  my  dumpy  little  Virgil. 

"  Item,"  I  concluded,  "  the  works  of  the  divine  master, 
P.  Vergil ius  Maro,  hidden  in  my  pocket  by  that  mischievous 
minx  and  monkey,  Kate  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards."  And 
I  told  the  story. 

"  Then  if  Kate  had  not  hidden  your  beloved  Virgil,  you 
would  not  have  gone  fishing  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't." 

"  Life  turns  on  trifles,  Master  Wheatman,  and  to  a  pretty 
girl's  sisterly  jest  I  owe  everything  that  has  happened  since 
I  first  saw  you  on  the  river  bank." 

"  We  owe  it,  madam,"  I  corrected  gently,  and  I  turned 
to  go  on,  for  I  saw  that  she  was  moved  and  troubled  at  the 
evil  she  thought  she  had  brought  on  me.  Evil !  I  was 
enjoying  every  breath  I  drew  and  every  step  I  took,  and 
my  heart  was  like  a  live  coal  in  the  midst  of  my 
bosom. 

"  Have  no  fear,  Mistress  Margaret,"  said  I  cheerfully, 
sweeping  my  hand  out.  "  There's  broad  Staffordshire  before 
us,  a  goodly  land  full  of  meat  and  malt  and  money,  and  we'll 
have  our  share  of  it." 

"  But  you'll  have  to  steal  it  for  me." 

"  '  Convey  the  wise  it  call,'  "  I  quoted. 

"  That's  better,"  and  she  smiled  up  at  me  in  the  moon- 
light. "  Virgil  puts  you  right  above  my  poor  wits,  but  say 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  59 

you  love  Shakespeare  too,  and  we  shall  have  one  of  the  great 
things  of  life  in  common." 

"  I  do,  madam,  but  you  must  learn  to  rate  things  at  their 
true  value.  You  speak  French  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes." 

"  And  Italian  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  play  the  harpsichord  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  madam,  I  am  a  half -educated  boor  compared 
with  you,  for  I  know  none  of  these  things.  But  though  I 
do  not  know  the  French  or  Italian  for  marry-me- quick,  if 
you  will  get  it  out  of  your  pocket,  I'll  show  you  the  Stafford- 
shire for  half  of  it." 

We  marched  on  gaily  for  another  quarter  of  an  hour, 
eating  the  sweet  morsel.  Then  I  said,  "  Even  an  old  traveller 
and  campaigner  like  you  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  our  inn 
is  at  hand." 

"  Very  glad,  but  I  see  no  signs  of  it." 

"  Well,  no,"  said  I,  "  it's  not  exactly  an  inn,  but  just  a 
plain  barn.  You  shall  sleep  soft  and  safe  and  warm,  though, 
and  even  if  we  had  money  and  an  inn  was  at  hand,  it  would 
be  foolish  to  go  there.  Your  case  is  hard,  madam,  and  I 
wish  I  could  offer  you  better  quarters." 

Under  the  shelter  of  a  round  knoll  clumped  with  pines, 
lay  an  ancient  farmhouse.  We  were  approaching  it  from 
the  front,  and  its  sheds  and  barns  were  at  £he  rear.  We 
therefore  turned  into  the  field  and  fetched  a  cirtuit,  and  soon 
stood  at  the  gate  leading  into  the  farmyard.  No  one  stirred, 
not  even  a  dog  barked,  as  I  softly  opened  the  gate  and  crept, 
followed  by  Mistress  Waynflete,  to  the  nearest  building.  I 
pushed  open  the  door,  we  entered  a  barn,  and  were  safe  for 
the  night.  The  moon  shone  through  the  open  door,  and  I 
saw  that  the  barn  was  empty,  probably  because  the  year's 
crops,  as  I  knew  to  my  sorrow,  had  been  poor  indeed  in  our 
district.  The  fact  that  the  barn  was  bare  told  in  our  favour, 
as  no  farm  hand  would  be  likely  to  come  near  it  should  one 
be  stirring  before  us  next  morning. 

A  rick  stood  handy  in  the  yard,  and  on  going  to  it  I  found 
that  three  or  four  dasses  of  hay  had  been  carved  out  ready 


60  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

for  removal  to  the  stalls.  I  carried  them  to  the  shed,  one 
by  one,  and  mighty  hot  I  was  by  the  time  I  dumped  the  last 
on  the  barn  floor.  Starting  off  again,  I  poached  around  in 
another  shed,  and  was  lucky  enough  to  find  a  pile  of  empty 
corn  sacks.  Spreading  these  three  or  four  deep  in  the  far 
corner  of  the  barn,  I  covered  them  thickly  with  hay,  and 
having  reserved  a  sack  on  purpose,  I  stuffed  it  loosely  with 
hay  to  serve  for  a  pillow. 

All  this  busy  time  Mistress  Waynflete  stood  on  the  moonlit 
door-sill,  silent  as  a  mouse,  and  when  I  stole  quietly  up  to 
tell  her  all  was  ready,  I  saw  that  her  hands  were  clasped  in 
front  and  her  lips  moved.  I  bared  my  head  and  waited,  for 
she  had  transformed  this  poor  barn  into  a  maiden's  sanctuary. 

She  turned  her  face  towards  me.  "  Madam,"  said  I,  very 
quietly,  "  your  bed  is  ready,  and  you  are  tired  out  and  dead 
for  sleep.  Pray  come  !  " 

Still  silent,  she  stepped  up  and  examined  my  rude  handi- 
work. Then  she  curled  herself  up  on  the  hay,  and  I  covered 
her  with  more  hay  till  she  lay  snug  enough  to  keep  out  another 
Great  Frost. 

"  Good  night,  madam,  and  sweet  sleep  befall  you,"  and 
I  was  turning  away. 

"  Ho  !  "  she  said,  "  and  pray  where  do  you  propose  to 
sleep  ?  " 

"  I  shall  nest  under  the  rick-straddle." 

"  Sir,"  and  her  tone  was  almost  unpleasant,  "  for  the 
modesty  you  attribute  unto  me,  I  thank  you.  For  the 
gratitude  you  decline  to  attribute  unto  me,  I  dislike  you. 
But  pray  give  me  credit  for  a  little  common  sense.  I  shall 
desire  your  services  in  the  morning,  and  I  do  not  want  to 
find  you  under  a  rick,  frozen  to  a  fossil." 

"  No,  madam." 

She  sprang  out  of  bed,  tumbling  the  hay  in  all  directions. 

"  Master  Wheatman,  I  will  not  pretend  to  misunderstand 
you,  and  indeed,  I  thank  you,  but  you  are  going  to  put 
your  bed  here,"  stamping  her  foot,  "  so  that  we  can  talk 
without  raising  our  voices.  I  am  much  more  willing  to 
sleep  in  the  same  barn  with  you  than  in  the  same  town  with 
my  Lord  Brocton.  Where's  your  share  of  the  sacks  ?  " 

I  did  without  sacks,  but  I  fetched  more  chunks  of  hay, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  61 

and  she  helped  me  strew  a  bed  for  myself  close  up  to  her 
own.  I  tucked  her  up  once  more,  and  then  made  myself 
cosy.  I  was  miserable  lest  I  should  snore.  Yokels  so  often 
do.  Joe  Braggs,  for  instance,  would  snore  till  the  barn  door 
rattled. 

I  remembered  the  cordial,  and  we  each  had  a  good  pull 
at  the  flask.  I  felt  for  days  the  touch  of  her  smooth,  soft 
fingers  on  mine  as  she  took  it. 

"  It  certainly  does  warm  you  up,"  she  said.  "  I  feel  all 
aglow  without  and  within." 

"  Then  I  may  take  it  that  you  are  comfortable  ?  " 

"If  it  were  not  for  two  things,  I  should  say  this  was  a 
boy-and-girl  escapade  of  ours,  every  moment  of  which  was 
just  pure  enjoyment." 

"Naturally  you  are  uneasy  about  your  father,  but 
I  cannot  think  he  will  come  to  any  immediate  harm. 
Why  Brocton  should  send  him  north  instead  of  south  is,  I 
confess,  a  mystery,  but  to-morrow  will  solve  it.  And  what 
else  makes  you  uneasy  ?  " 

"  You,"  she  replied,  very  low  and  brief. 

"  I  ?  And  pray,  madam,  what  have  I  done  to  make  you 
uneasy  ?  " 

"  Met  me."     Still  the  same  tone. 

"  I  am  not  able  to  talk  to  you  in  the  modish  manner, 
nor  do  I  think  you  would  wish  me  to  try  to  ape  my  betters, 
so  I  say  plainly  that  our  meeting  has  not  made  me  uneasy. 
Why  then  you  ?  " 

"  Had  you  not  met  me,  you  would  now  be  asleep  at  the 
Hanyards,  a  free  and  happy  country  gentleman.  Instead 
you  are  here,  a  suspect,  a  refugee,  an  outlaw,  one  tainted 
with  rebellion,  the  jail  for  certain  if  you  are  caught,  and 
then " 

She  broke  off  abruptly,  and  I  think  I  heard  a  low 
sob. 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  the  gibbet." 

"  It's  true  that  the  thieving  craft  is  a  curst  craft  for  the 
gallows,  but  to-morrow's  trouble  is  like  yesterday's  dinner, 
not  worth  thinking  on.  We  are  here,  safe  and  comfortable. 
Let  that  suffice.  And  to-day,  so  far  from  doing  harm  at 


62  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

which  you  must  needs  be  uneasy,  you  have  wrought  a 
miracle." 

"  Wrought  a  miracle  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  have  found  a  cabbage,  and  made  a  man.  Good 
night,  Mistress  Waynflete." 

"  Good  night,  Master  Wheatman." 

I  imitated  the  regular  breathing  of  a  tired,  sleeping  man. 
In  a  few  minutes  it  became  clear  that  she  was  really  asleep, 
and  I  pretended  no  longer,  but  stretched  out  comfortably 
in  the  fragrant  hay  and  soon  slept  like  a  log. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
THE  CONJURER'S  CAP 

I  AWOKE  between  darkness  and  daylight.  Mistress 
Waynflete  still  slept  peacefully  and  there  was  as  yet 
no  need  to  rouse  her.  I  had  slept  in  my  shoes,  but  now 
I  drew  them  off,  lifted  the  bar  of  the  door,  and  stole  out  to 
look  around.  Not  a  soul  was  stirring  about  the  farm,  and 
the  only  living  creature  in  sight  was  a  sleepy  cock,  which 
scuttled  off  noisily  at  my  approach.  I  entered  a  cowshed, 
where  a  fine,  patient  cow  turned  a  reproachful  eye  on  me,  as 
if  rebuking  me  for  my  too  early  visit.  I  cheerily  clucked 
and  slapped  her  on  to  her  hoofs,  and  then,  failing  to  find  any 
sort  of  cup  or  can,  punched  my  hat  inside  out  and  filled  it 
with  warm  foaming  milk.  With  this  spoil  I  hurried  back 
to  our  quarters. 

I  had  to  leave  the  door  open,  and  this  gave  me  light 
enough  to  look  more  closely  at  my  companion.  She  was 
still  sleeping,  her  face  calmly  content,  and  so  had  she  slept 
through  the  night,  for  the  coverlet  of  hay  was  rising  and 
falling  undisturbed  on  her  breast.  It  was  now  time  to  wake 
her,  and,  having  no  free  hand,  I  knelt  down  to  nudge  her 
with  my  elbow.  As  I  did  so,  her  face  changed.  A  look  of 
concern  came  over  it,  then  one  of  hesitation,  then  a  sweet 
smile,  chasing  each  other  as  gleam  chases  gloom  across  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  63 

meadows  on  an  April  day.  She  was  dreaming,  dreaming 
pleasantly,  and  it  was  to  a  hard  world  that  I  awakened  her. 

At  my  second  nudge  she  half-opened  her  eyes  and  mur- 
mured, "  It's  very  wide."  Then  my  greeting  aroused  her 
fully,  and  she  blushed  wondrous  red  and  beautiful. 

"  Good  morrow,  Mistress  Waynflete,"  said  I.  "I  grieve 
to  disturb  you,  and,  pray  you,  do  not  move  too  abruptly  or 
over  goes  the  breakfast." 

"  Good  morrow,  Master  Oliver,"  she  replied.  "  I  have 
slept  well.  I  feel  as  if  I've  quite  enjoyed  it.  We  do  enjoy 
sleep,  I  think,  sometimes." 

"  Or  the  dreams  it  brings,  madam." 

She  glanced  quickly  at  me,  as  if  afraid  that  I  had  the 
power  of  reading  dream-thoughts,  and  gaily  said,  "And 
breakfast  ready  !  This  is  even  better  than  the  Paris  fashion. 
What  is  it  ?  More  of  dear  Kate's  cordial  ?  " 

I  did  not  know  what  the  Paris  fashion  of  breakfast  was, 
and  she  did  not  enlighten  me.  Anyhow,  I,  the  yokel,  had 
improved  on  it,  and  that  was  something. 

"  A  far  better  brewage,  madam,"  I  said,  "  but  you  must 
pardon  the  Staffordshire  fashion  of  serving  it." 

She  sat  up,  took  the  cap,  and  drank  heartily,  the  dawn 
still  in  her  eyes  and  cheeks,  and  masses  of  yellow  hair  tumbling 
down  from  under  her  hood  on  throat  and  bosom.  When  she 
handed  back  the  cap,  I  could  not  forbear  from  saying,  "  You 
look  charming  after  your  night's  rest,  and  I  profess  that 
tear  of  milk  on  the  tip  of  your  nose  becomes  you  admirably." 
With  the  rim  of  my  cap  at  my  lips,  I  added  with  mock 
concern,  "  Have  a  care,  Mistress  Waynflete,  or  you'll  rub 
off  tip  as  well  as  tear." 

"  I  suppose  you  thought  '  As  a  jewel  of  gold '  and  the 
rest  of  it,"  she  said,  squinting  comically  down  to  examine 
her  nose. 

"  Really,  no,  madam  ;  I  thought  of  nothing  so  scandalous, 
from  the  Bible  though  it  be.  I  thought  of — of  .  .  ." 

"  I'm  all  ears,"  she  said  archly. 

"  I'm  a  poor  hand  at  turning  compliments  to  ladies," 
said  I. 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  turn  them  admirably.  See  !  " 
She  held  up  my  sopping  cap,  and  laughed  merrily. 


CH  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  It's  rained  for  best,"  said  I,  "  but  it  wffl  do  for  market 
days.  And  now,  madam,  it's  cold  enough  to  freeze  askers, 
as  Joe  Braggs  says,  and  for  toilet  you  must  e'en  be  content 
with  first  a  shiver  and  then  a  shake.  I  will  await  you  at 
the  yard  gate,  and  pray  close  the  door  behind  you.  The 
quicker  the  better." 

She  rejoined  me  in  two  or  three  minutes.  I  closed  the 
gate  cautiously  behind  me,  and  we  started  our  journey. 
From  the  farm  we  got  away  quite  unobserved,  but  I  looked 
behind  me  at  every  other  step  to  make  surer,  till  we  turned 
the  top  of  the  knoll,  and  it  was  with  great  relief  that  I  saw 
the  chimney-pots  sink  out  of  sight. 

For  a  time  we  walked  along  briskly  and  hi  silence.  So  far 
I  had  carried  everything  with  a  high  hand  and  successfully, 
but  the  cold  grey  of  the  morning  began  to  creep  into  my 
thoughts  as  I  looked  ahead  over  miles  and  miles  of  dreariness 
and  danger.  Houses  were  few  and  far  between ;  every  village 
was  a  source  of  danger ;  the  high  roads  were  closed  to  us 
by  our  fear  of  the  troops.  Further,  the  object  we  had  in 
view  was  vague  and  unformed,  if  not  impossible  of  achieve- 
ment, for  even  if  we  arrived  at  the  very  place  where  Colonel 
Waynflete  was  held  prisoner,  what  could  we  do  to  help  him  ? 
We  should  be  safe  from  immediate  need  and  danger  if  we 
could  reach  the  Prince's  army,  but  where  that  was,  and 
which  way  it  was  travelling,  were  unknown  to  us.  Certain 
it  was  that  between  us  and  any  real  help  ranged  some  thirty 
miles  of  cold,  bleak  country  packed  with  enemies  for  miles 
ahead.  And  here  we  were,  on  foot,  penniless  and  hungry. 
I  had  longed  for  a  man's  work  ;  this  was  a  regiment's. 

A  sidelong  look  at  my  companion  drove  all  the  mist 
and  frost  out  of  my  heart.  Something  about  her  made 
me  feel  a  sneak  and  a  traitor  even  for  harbouring  such 
thoughts.  From  the  first  she  had  asked  for  no  help  of  mine. 
I  had  forced  it  on  her,  or  circumstances  had  forced  me  to 
help  her  in  helping  myself,  as  when  I  cut  our  way  from 
Marry-me-quick's  cottage.  The  more  J  was  with  her,  the 
better  I  began  to  understand  Brocton's  madness.  It  was 
the  madness  of  the  mere  brute  in  him  to  be  sure,  and  a  man 
should  kick  the  brute  in  him  into  its  kennel,  though  he 
cannot  at  times  help  hearing  it  whine.  Her  majestic  beauty 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  65 

had  dazzled  him  as  a  flame  dazzles  a  moth,  but  at  this  stage, 
at  any  rate,  it  was  not  her  beauty  that  made  me  her  thrall. 
That  I  could  have  withstood.  Because  she  was  so  beautiful, 
so  stately,  so  compelling,  she  made  no  appeal  to  me.  What 
I  mean  is,  that  I  did  not  fall  in  love  with  her  at  first  sight, 
simply  because  the  mere  stupidity  of  such  a  thing  kept  me 
from  doing  it.  Glow-worms  do  not  fall  in  love  with  stars 
or  thistles  with  sycamores.  She  was  something  to  be  wor- 
shipped, served  at  any  cost,  saved  at  any  sacrifice,  but  not 
loved.  No,  that  was  for  some  lucky  one  of  her  own  class 
and  state,  not  for  a  simple  squireling  like  me.  Her  comrade- 
ship, her  graciousness,  her  sweet  equalizing  of  our  positions, 
were,  I  felt,  just  the  simple,  natural  adornments  of  the 
commanding  modesty  which  was  her  spiritual  garment. 

Manlike,  however,  I  had  an  evil  streak  in  me,  and  thence, 
later,  came  madness.  In  any  company  I  must  be  top  dog. 
I  had  been  head  of  the  school,  not  because  of  any  special 
cleverness,  but  because  I  would  burst  rather  than  be  second 
to  anybody  in  anything.  I  had  fought  and  fought,  at  all 
hazards,  until  not  a  boy  in  school  or  town  dare  come  near 
me.  So  now,  since  my  Lord  Brocton — and  many  a  lord 
beside,  I  doubted  not — had  failed,  I  must  needs  step  in  and 
say.  "  I  will  please  her,  whether  she  like  it  or  not"  And  so, 
plain  countryman  as  I  was,  I  had  done  my  work  ungrudg- 
ingly but  not,  I  feared,  too  modestly,  and  since  I  could  not 
speak  court-like,  I  had  been  over-masterful,  and  given  her 
mood  for  mood,  and  turned  no  cheek  for  her  sweet  smiting. 
And  as  I  had  of  old  time  licked  every  lad  in  Stafford,  so  now 
neither  Staffordshire  nor  all  the  King's  men  in  it  should  turn 
me  back.  Through  she  should  go,  and  in  safety  and  comfort, 
so  that  when  the  time  came  for  me  to  hand  over  my  precious 
charge  to  a  worthier,  she  should  say  that  the  yokel  had  done 
a  man's  work  and  done  it  gentlemanly.  Therefore,  when 
Mistress  Waynflete  looked  up  to  me  from  the  bleak  uplands 
with  serious,  questioning  eyes,  I  said,  as  calmly  as  if  we  were 
pacing  the  garden  at  the  Hanyards,  with  Kate  and  Jane 
active  in  the  kitchen  behind  us,  "  Ham  and  eggs  for  break- 
fast !  " 

"  I  don't  see  any,"  she  said,  in  answering  mood,  scanning 
the  fields  around  us.  "  Not  that  that  matters.  I  didn't 


66  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

see  the  steps,  but  they  were  there.  You  make  me  think, 
Master  Wheatman,  of  a  Turk  I  saw  in  a  booth  at  Vienna, 
who  drew  rabbits  and  rose-bushes  out  of  an  empty  hat. 
Staffordshire  is  your  conjurer's  hat.  And  I  do  like  ham 
and  eggs." 

My  assurance  and  her  comfortable  belief  in  it  made  us 
both  brighter,  and  we  stepped  out  merrily.  She  gave  me 
an  entertaining  account  of  Vienna,  where  she  had  spent 
some  months,  and  which  was  then  the  great  outpost  of 
Christendom  against  the  Turk.  When  this  talk  had  brought 
us  on  to  the  field  of  Hopton  Heath,  I  gave  her  the  best 
account  I  could  of  the  battle  there  in  the  Civil  War  time, 
and  of  the  slaying  of  the  Marquis  of  Northampton.  And 
this  led  me  on  to  my  pride  of  ancestry,  and  I  told  her  of 
Captain  Smite-and-spare-not  Wheatman,  a  tower  of  strength 
to  the  Parliament  in  these  parts,  who  fought  here  and  later 
on  Naseby  Field  itself.  Many  tales  I  told  of  him  that  had 
been  handed  down  from  one  generation  of  us  to  another, 
and  how  so  greatly  was  he  taken  with  his  incomparable 
lord-general  that  he  had  named  his  first-born  son  Oliver, 
and  ever  since  there  had  been  an  Oliver  Wheatman  of  the 
Hanyards.  Then  I  told  how  one  of  these  later  Olivers, 
which  one  a  matter  of  no  consequence,  had  written  verses 
and  put  them  into  the  mouth  of  the  doughty  Smite-and-spare- 
not,  sitting  his  horse,  stark  and  strong,  at  the  head  of  his 
men  on  Naseby  Field,  and  gazing  with  grim,  grey  eyes 
on  the  opening  movements  of  the  fight.  And,  nothing 
loth,  I  trolled  them  out  roundly  across  the  meadows,  till  the 
peewits  screamed  and  a  distant  dog  began  to  bay : 

"  Princelet  and  king,  and  mitre  and  ring, 

Earl  and  baron  and  squire, 
Oliver  worries  'em,  harries  and  flurries  'em, 

With  siege  and  slaughter  and  fire. 
With  the  arm  of  the  Flesh  and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit, 

Push  of  pike  and  the  Word, 
Smiting  and  praying,  and  praising  and  slaying, 

Oliver  fights  for  the  Lord. 
With  the  sword  He  brought  the  work  is  wrought, 

We  finish  here  to-day. 
When  yon  rags  and  remnants  of  Babylon 

Are  blown  and  battered  away. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  67 

Hurrah  for  the  groans  of  'em,  soon  shall  the  bones  of  'em, 

Steady!     Hell-rakers  at  large, 
Rot  under  the  sod.     Pass  the  word:  '  God 

Is  our  strength.'    There  goes  Oliver.     Charge!" 

When  I  had  done  she  applauded  so  that  my  face  burned 
until  I  was  discommoded -and  fell  into  her  trap. 

"  I  wish  you'd  written  them,  Master  Wheatman." 

"  Well,  I  did,"  said  I  grumpily,  not  liking  to  be  bereft 
of  any  little  glory  in  her  eyes. 

"  What,  you  ? "  Her  eyebrows  arched  and  her  lips 
curled.  "  You,  oh,  never.  '  Smiting  and  praying  '  ?  '  The 
arm  of  the  Flesh  and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit.' '  She  mouthed 
the  words  deliciously. 

"  But,  doubtless,  when  you  see  my  Lord  Brocton  again, 
you'll  put  in  the  Word  and  the  praying."  Here  her  sweet 
voice  trailed  off  into  a  dainty  snuffle  :  "  '  My  dear  lord,  since 
out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  proceedeth 
wisdom,  hearken,  I  pray  you,  unto  me,  Oliver  Wheatman, 
to  wit  of  the  Hanyards,  and  amend  ye  your  ways  lest  I  hit 
you  over  your  cockscomb  again,  and  very  much  harder  than 
before.  Repent  ye,  my  lord,  for  the  hour  is  at  hand,  and  if 
you  don't,  I'll  thump  you  into  one  of  our  Kate's  blackberry 
jellies.'  And  here  endeth  the  goodly  discourse  of  that 
saintly  rib-roaster,  Master  Hit-him-first-and-then-pray-for- 
him  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards." 

It  was  simply  glorious  to  be  so  tormented  by  this  witch 
with  the  dancing  blue  eyes. 

"  For  this  scandalous  contempt  of  the  Muses,"  said  I 
soberly,  "  I  shall  punish  you  by  frizzling  your  share  of  the 
ham  to  a  cinder." 

During  my  schoolboy  days  I  had  roamed  the  countryside 
till  I  knew  it  as  an  open  book,  and  this  minute  knowledge 
was  our  salvation  now.  The  immediate  need  was  food,  and 
food  obtained  without  price  and  without  our  being  observed 
by  anyone.  At  seven  o'clock  on  a  hard  winter  morning  in 
open  country,  this  seemed  to  require  a  miracle.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  was  as  easy  as  shelling  peas. 

Since  crossing  the  heath  we  had  been  travelling  nearer 
to  one  of  the  main  roads,  that  leading  out  of  the  east  gate 
to  the  town,  and  now  we  got  our  first  glimpse  of  it  lying 


68  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

like  a  broad,  brown  ribbon  half-way  down  the  slope  of  a 
very  steep  hill.  In  the  upper  half,  this  hill  was  pretty  well 
wooded  and  the  road  cut  clean  through  the  wood,  but  between 
us  and  the  wood  there  lay  the  level  crest  of  the  hill,  cut  by 
hedges  into  several  fields,  and  crossed  by  a  rough  cart -track 
leading  past  a  roomy,  one-storied  cottage,  grey-walled  and 
brown-thatched,  and  on  through  the  wood  into  the  main 
road.  The  cottage,  with  its  outbuildings,  made  a  little 
farmstead,  and  here  lived  Dick  Doley  and  his  wife  Sal,  who 
did  a  little  farming,  but  mainly  lived  by  huckstering.  To- 
day was  market-day  at  Stafford,  and  unless  they  had  broken 
the  routine  of  half  a  lifetime,  they  would  now  be  packing 
their  little  cart  with  marketables  and  soon  be  off  for  the 
town.  They  had  neither  chick  nor  child,  lad-servant  nor 
lassie,  and  they  would  leave  the  cottage  empty  and  at  our 
disposal.  At  this  time  of  the  day  I  could,  of  course,  have 
trusted  both,  but  they  were  very  human  bodies,  of  a  sort 
to  rejoice  the  business  side  of  the  heart  of  Joe  Braggs,  and 
it  was  best  not  to  give  them  the  chance  of  blabbing  later  in 
the  day  when,  for  a  moral  certainty,  they  would  both  be 
market  fresh.  Besides,  it  was  unfair  to  thrust  myself  on 
the  kindness  of  anyone.  I  had  more  than  once  wondered 
what  had  happened  to  poor  little  Marry-me-quick. 

I  scrambled  through  the  hedge  and  peeped  down  the 
road.  I  was  right.  Dick  and  his  wife  were  busy  loading 
up.  So  we  waited  behind  the  hedge  till  they  had  cleared 
off,  and  indeed  did  not  move  till  I  saw  them  and  their  cart 
pass  along  the  road  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

Time  has  not  blurred  the  memory  of  a  single  detail  of 
our  stay  in  this  welcome  house  of  refuge,  but  the  telling  of 
what  was  moving  and  charming  to  me  would,  I  fear,  bore 
others.  There  was  a  ham,  two  indeed,  and  flitches  beside, 
in  the  rack  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  and  there  were  eggs — 
three,  to  be  precise — in  the  larder,  to  which,  by  equal  good 
luck  considering  the  time  of  the  year,  I  added  two  more 
by  a  raid  into  the  hen-house.  It  was  all  natural  and  simple 
enough,  but  Mistress  Waynflete  hailed  their  production 
almost  as  amazedly  as  if  I  had  indeed  drawn  them  out  of 
my  hat.  But  how  I  fetched  and  carried,  chopped  wood 
and  drew  water,  swept  the  floor  and  laid  the  table,  fried 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  69 

ham  and  boiled  eggs,  doing  all  these  things  with  music  in 
my  heart  and  a  noisy  song  on  my  lips — is  everything  to  me 
and  nothing  to  my  tale. 

Mistress  Waynflete  had  disappeared  into  one  of  the  three 
or  four  rooms  of  which  the  house  consisted,  to  make  herself 
presentable,  as  she  absurdly  put  it.  When  the  table  was 
laid  and  the  ham  cooked,  I  halloed  the  news  to  her,  and 
rushed  off  to  the  shed  to  attend  to  my  outward  appear- 
ance. I  did  want  it,  being  indeed  not  far  short  of 
filthy. 

Perhaps  I  hurried  unexpectedly.  At  any  rate,  on  re- 
turning I  found  Mistress  Waynflete  bending  over  something 
on  the  hearth.  Straightening  herself  hastily,  and  with  a 
pretty  confusion,  at  my  approach,  she  cried,  "  Oh,  Master 
Oliver,  the  ham  was  burning,  and  you  threatened  my  share 
of  it,  you  know  !  " 

I  could  not  reply.  Down  to  her  hips  her  rich  amber 
hair  flowed  like  a  bridal  veil,  and  from  amid  a  wealth  of 
snowy  lace,  fluttering  on  the  orbed  glory  of  perfect  woman- 
hood, her  neck  rose  smooth  and  stately  as  a  shaft  of  alabaster. 
Her  cheeks  crimsoned  with  maiden  shamefastness,  but  the 
blue  eyes  met  mine  without  a  hint  of  maiden  fear,  and  for 
that  thanks  as  well  as  reverence  filled  my  heart  as  I  bowed 
to  her.  Maidenlike,  she  drew  her  golden  veil  more  closely 
over  her  bospm,  and  tripped  back  to  finish  her  toilet,  leaving 
me  amated  and  abashed  by  the  vision  I  had  beheld.  I  think 
it  was  from  that  moment  that  my  joy  in  my  work  began  to 
be  mingled  with  the  despair  of  my  love.  Certainly  it  was 
a  chastened  Oliver  Wheatman  who  placed  a  chair  for  her 
when  she  came  in  again  for  breakfast,  and  helped  her  to  the 
good  things  a  kindly  fortune  had  provided. 

It  is  my  belief  that  each  of  us  was  secretly  amused  at 
the  steady  zeal  with  which  the  other  attacked  the  meal.  We 
wrangled  over  the  odd  egg,  each  insisting  on  the  other  having 
it,  she  because  I  was  strong,  and  needed  it,  I  because  I  was 
strong  and  could  do  without  it,  and  finally  adopted  the  usual 
compromise.  We  had  more  than  gone  round  the  clock  with 
barely  a  mouthful,  and  we  ate  as  those  who  know  not  where 
the  next  meal's  meat  is  to  come  from.  Frankly,  I,  at  any 
rate,  gave  myself  a  fair  margin  before  the  pinch  should  come 


70  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

again,  and  Mistress  Waynflete  averred  that  she  had  never 
in  her  life  before  eaten  so  much  or  so  toothsomely. 

Our  meal  over,  I  stacked  the  fire  with  fresh  logs,  asked 
and  obtained  permission  to  smoke  a  pipe,  and  made  my 
sweet  mistress  cosy  in  the  chimney-corner.  Then  we  began 
to  take  stock  of  our  position. 

"  There's  no  good  to  come  of  hurrying,"  said  I.  "  Here 
we  are  both  snug  and  safe,  and  your  night's  rest  was  but 
short.  Let  us  see  where  we  stand." 

I  did  not  really  believe  that  any  amount  of  talking  would 
help  much,  but  repose  would  do  her  good,  and  I  had  a  big 
idea  running  in  and  out  of  my  mind.  Our  first  difficulty, 
food  and  rest,  had  been  overcome,  and  I  was  bent  on  master- 
ing the  next.  No  amount  of  discussion  gave  us  any  key 
to  the  one  great  mystery.  When  Brocton  had  captured 
Colonel  Waynflete  at  Milford,  the  obvious  thing  to  do  with 
him  was  to  send  him  prisoner  to  the  Duke  at  Lichfield. 
Though  the  Colonel  carried  no  papers  which  made  his  purpose 
clear,  Brocton  knew  well  what  the  object  of  his  journey  was, 
and  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  put  the  Colonel 
in  his  power.  Or,  he  might  have  carried  him  before  a  justice 
of  the  peace,  his  friend  Master  Dobson  for  choice,  and  had 
him  committed  to  the  town  jail.  The  course  actually 
taken,  that  of  sending  him  ahead,  under  guard,  in  the  very 
van  of  the  royal  army,  was  to  us  utterly  inexplicable.  His 
mad  lust  for  Mistress  Margaret  explained  the  separation  of 
father  and  daughter.  The  thought  did  occur  to  me,  though 
I  took  great  care  not  to  hint  at  it,  that  he  intended  to  make 
away  with  the  Colonel,  and  looked  to  finding  tools  among 
his  blackguardly  dragoons  and  an  opportunity  when  in 
actual  conflict  with  the  Highlanders.  I  hesitated,  however, 
to  believe  that  Brocton  was  such  a  villain  as  to  commit  an 
unnecessary  murder.  The  plan  he  had  adopted  had,  any- 
how, this  advantage  to  us  that,  when  we  did  come  into 
touch  with  the  prisoner,  our  chances  of  assisting  him  were 
far  greater  than  if  he  were  in  jail  in  Stafford  or  Lichfield. 

Whatever  my  lord's  motives  were,  it  was  clear  that  he 
was  not  acting  in  the  plain,  straight-dealing  manner  to  be 
expected  of  one  in  his  position.  There  were  other  signs  of 
crookedness,  slight  but  not  without  weight.  I  could  under- 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  71 

stand  his  joy  on  finding  me  at  Marry-me-quick's.  It  meant 
that  I  was  a  rebel,  and  as  a  loyal  man,  who  had  gone  to 
expenses  to  prove  his  loyalty,  he  might  easily  get  the  Han- 
yards  as  a  reward,  and  thus  round  off  the  family  property 
in  our  neighbourhood.  His  reference  to  a  "  solatium " 
puzzled  me,  but  it  did  not  seem  anything  of  consequence. 
What  had  I  but  the  Hanyards  to  solace  him  with  ?  A 
more  important  puzzle  had  been  his  behaviour  at  Master 
Dobson's.  To  find  me  on  the  royal  side,  as  he  then  sup- 
posed, and  to  hear  my  reason  for  it,  had  clean  dazed  him. 
Then  there  was  the  look,  a  signal-look  beyond  a  doubt, 
which  I  had  surprised  him  giving  his  bully,  Major  Pimple- 
face,  and  which  was  followed  by  the  latter's  attempt  to 
embroil  the  stranger  from  London  in  a  row. 

"  It  is  useless,  Master  Wheatman,  to  speculate  further 
on  what  Lord  Brocton  is  doing,"  said  my  mistress  at  last. 
"  He  has  his  ends.  I  am  one  of  them.  Another  is,  no  doubt, 
to  fill  his  pockets,  somehow  or  other.  It  was  common  talk 
in  town  that  he  was  head  over  ears  in  debt." 

While  we  had  talked  and  had  rested,  I  had  not  been  idle. 
Dick  Doley's  roomy  kitchen  had  two  windows,  one  over- 
looking the  cart-track,  and  another  the  slope  of  the  hill. 
The  hill  was  so  made  and  the  house  so  placed  that  from 
this  second  window  we  could  see  the  strip  of  road  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  where  it  curved  on  to  the  level  again.  I 
had  kept  a  sharp  look  out  on  that  bit,  but  had  seen  no  one 
pass  along  it  either  way  as  yet. 

In  one  corner  of  the  room  Dick  kept  an  ancient  fowling- 
piece,  more  of  a  tool  of  husbandry  than  a  weapon,  since  his 
only  use  for  it  was  to  scare  birds.  It  was  a  heavy,  unhandy 
thing,  with  a  brass  barrel  down  which  I  could  have  dropped 
a  sizable  duck  egg,  and  round  its  thick-rimmed  nozzle 
some  one  had  rudely  graven,  "  Happy  is  he  that  escapeth  me." 
I  fetched  it  out  of  its  corner,  and  cleaned  and  oiled  it.  I 
now  loaded  it,  for  powder-horn  and  shot-bag  hung  near  it  on 
the  wall,  putting  in  a  handful  of  the  biggest  sort  of  shot, 
swan-shot  as  I  should  call  them.  During  this  task,  Mistress 
Waynflete  watched  me  narrowly,  but  made  no  reference  to  it. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "  our  main  requisite  is  the  stuff,  the  ready, 
the  rhino,  the  swag — call  it  what  you  will.  How  do  you 


72  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

fancy  me  as  a  knight  of  the  road  ?  The  first  copper-faced 
farmer  I  come  across  shall  surely  stand  and  deliver.  Here's 
an  argument  he  cannot  resist." 

At  last  my  scrutiny  of  the  road  was  rewarded.  A 
solitary  horseman  came  in  sight  from  the  direction  of  the 
town. 

"  Mistress  Waynflete,"  said  I,  picking  up  the  fowling- 
piece,  "  there's  a  traveller  yonder  coming  from  Stafford. 
It  will  be  well  if  I  go  and  ask  him  a  few  questions." 

She  almost  leaped  at  me,  red  anger  flashing  in  her  eyes 
but  her  face  white  as  milk.  "  Sir,"  she  said,  "  you  shall 
not  turn  thief  for  me.  I  will  not  have  it." 

"  Pray,  madam,"  replied  I  huffily,  "  expound  the  moral 
difference  between  stealing  ham  and  stealing  guineas.  I'm 
all  for  morality." 

"  I  cannot,  Master  Wheatman,  but  you  must  not,  shall 
not  go."  She  caught  hold  of  my  sleeve.  "  Say  you  won't ! 
If  you  are  found  out  it  means ' 

"  I  shall  not  be  found  out.  You  may  take  that  for  sure. 
Think  you  that  I  cannot  pluck  yon  chough  without  being 
pinched  ?  It's  no  more  robbery  than  our  eating  Dick's 
ham  and  eggs.  We  are  soldiers  in  enemy's  country,  and  we 
plunder  by  right  of  the  known  rules  of  war.  As  a  concession 
to  your  prejudices  in  favour  of  the  jog-trot  morality  of 
peace,  I  will  e'en  ask  him  whether  he  be  for  James  or  George, 
and  borrow  or  command  his  guineas  in  accordance  with  his 
reply.  Loose  my  sleeve,  madam  !  " 

I  loosened  the  grip  of  her  fingers,  and  led  her  back  to  her 
chair.  "  You  overrate  my  danger,  sweet  mistress,  and  under 
rate  our  need.  Without  money,  we  might  as  well  lie  under 
the  nearest  hedge  and  leave  Jack  Frost  to  settle  matters  his 
way,  and  a  cold,  nasty  way  it  would  be.  Your  guinea  is  a 
good  fighter,  and  we  need  his  help.  It  must  be  done,  and, 
never  fear,  I'll  carry  it  through  safely." 

So  I  left  her,  white  hands  grappling  the  arms  of  her  chair, 
and  white  face  turned  away  from  me. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  73 

CHAPTER  IX 
MY  CAREER  AS  A  HIGHWAYMAN 

I  LEFT  the  cottage  from  the  rear  and  struck  slantwise 
across  the  fields  to  reach  the  shelter  of  the  trees  and 
undergrowth  that  covered  the  slope  down  to  the  road. 
I  ran  hard  so  as  to  shake  irresolution  out  of  my  mind,  for 
I  found  myself  half  wishing  that  Mistress  Waynflete  had 
pleaded  with  me  at  first  instead  of  trying  to  thrust  me  out  of 
my  plan.  After  all  the  highwayman's  was  hardly  my  calling 
in  life.  So  I  ran  hard,  saying  to  myself  that  it  must  be  done, 
and  the  sooner  it  was  over  the  better.  Then  I  laughed. 
With  my  rusty  old  birding-piece  I  was  as  ill-equipped  for 
highwaymanship  as  I  was  for  farming  with  my  Georgics. 
"  Stand  and  deliver,"  quoth  I  to  myself,  "  or  I'll  double  your 
weight  with  swan-shot."  Were  the  unknown  horseman 
a  resolute  man  armed  with  a  hair-trigger,  I  was  as  good  as 
done  for. 

Arrived  in  the  shelter  of  the  wood,  I  began  picking  my 
way  through  the  thick  undergrowth  towards  the  road. 
Fallen  branchlets  snapped  beneath  my  heedless  feet  and  the 
sounds  rang  in  my  ears  like  pistol-shots.  A  saucy  robin 
cocked  his  care-free  eye  on  me  from  the  top  of  a  crab-tree, 
and  I  could  have  envied  him  as  I  stumbled  by.  It  was 
perhaps  fourscore  yards  through,  and  half-way  I  stopped 
to  listen.  Yes,  there  came  to  my  ear  the  slow  trot-ot-ot 
of  hoofs  on  the  hard  road.  I  went  on  again  until,  through 
the  leafless  tangle,  I  began  to  get  glimpses  of  the  highway. 
My  fate  was  dragging  me  on.  In  a  month's  time  my 
shrivelling  carcase  might  be  swinging  in  chains  on  the  top 
of  Wes'on  Bank,  an  ensample  to  evil-doers.  The  thought 
made  me  shiver,  and  I  jerked  out  a  broken  prayer  that  my 
intended  victim  might  turn  out  some  fat,  unarmed  fanner, 
as  easy  a  prey  as  an  over-fed  gander.  Then  I  cursed  myself 
for  a  fool.  No  man  can  mortgage  past  piety  for  present  sin. 
Who  was  I  that  I  should  be  allowed  to  steal  on  good 
security  ? 


74  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Trot-ot-ot.  Trot-ot-ot.  He  was  within  easy  shot  now, 
and  I  stopped  to  make  sure  of  my  rickety  old  weapon.  A 
dragoon's  musket  would  not  have  needed  such  constant  care. 
"  Life  turns  on  trifles,"  said  Mistress  Waynflete. 

In  lifting  my  eyes  from  the  priming  to  move  on  again, 
something  in  the  line  of  vision  made  me  start.  On  my  left, 
less  than  a  dozen  paces  from  me,  there  lay  on  the  ground,  on 
a  clean  patch  beneath  a  conspicuously-forked  hawthorn,  a 
man's  jacket  and  plumed  hat. 

A  lion  playing  with  a  lamb  would  not  have  given  me 
pause  more  abruptly.  I  stole  silently  up  to  them.  They 
were  fine  but  somewhat  faded  garments,  modish  and  even 
foppish,  and,  so  far  as  I  could  distinguish  any  peculiarity, 
military  in  appearance,  and  evidently  belonged  to  a  person 
of  some  quality.  Nor  had  they  been  flung  there  in  haste, 
for  the  coat  was  neatly  folded  and  the  hat  disposed  carefully 
on  top  of  it.  How  long  had  they  been  there  ?  I  picked  up 
the  hat,  and  there  was  still  the  gloss  of  recent  sweat  on  its 
inside  brim. 

This,  however,  was  no  time  for  idle  problems,  a  very 
urgent  one  being  on  hand.  Forward  I  crept  to  the  side  of 
the  road,  and,  lying  flat  down  on  the  ground,  pushed  the 
stock  of  my  gun  on  to  the  short  grass,  and  peeped  cautiously 
to  my  right  down  the  hill.  I  was  about  thirty  or  forty  yards 
from  a  bend  in  the  road,  and  had  intended  to  be  much  less, 
but  my  discovery  and  my  confused,  half-conscious  thinking 
about  it,  had  deflected  me  a  little  from  my  course. 

Trot-ot-ot.  He  would  be  in  sight  in  a  few  seconds. 
Trot-ot-ot,  plainer  than  ever,  and  there  he  was.  The 
moment  that  he  was  in  full  view  I  made  an  astonishing 
discovery,  and  saw  an  astonishing  sight. 

The  discovery  was  that  the  solitary  horseman,  walking 
his  powerful  grey  with  a  slack  rein,  and  lost  in  thought,  was 
Master  Freake. 

The  sight  was  the  rush  of  three  men  from  their  lurking- 
places  in  the  brushwood.  Two  of  them  were  soldiers,  and 
Brocton's  dragoons  at  that,  a  sample  of  the  town-sweepings 
Jack  had  complained  of.  One  seized  the  reins,  the  other 
held  a  carbine  point-blank  at  the  horseman's  head. 

These  were  plainly  deserters  or  freebooters,  acting  after 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  75 

their  kind,  and  they  had  picked  up  a  strange  partner  during 
their  foray.  He  wore  a  yokel's  smock  much  too  big  for  him, 
and  yet  not  big  enough  to  hide  his  bespurred  riding-boots. 
On  his  head  he  had  a  dirty  tapster's  bonnet,  and  his  face  was 
completely  hidden  by  a  rudely-cut  crape  vizard.  This 
singular  person  was  evidently  the  leader  of  the  gang.  He 
threatened  Master  Freake  with  a  glittering,  long-barrelled 
pistol,  and  in  gruff,  curt  tones  ordered  him  to  dismount  on 
pain  of  instant  death. 

Here  was  a  strange  overturn  to  be  sure.  Here  again  fate 
had  rudely  upset  my  plans,  and  no  fat  purse  would  there  be 
for  me  in  this  coil.  However,  though  I  would  have  robbed 
Master  Freake  willingly  enough,  my  blood  being  up  and  he 
a  manifest  Hanoverian,  I  was  not  going  to  see  Brocton's 
ruffians  rob  him,  much  less  kill  him.  The  purse  must  wait, 
and  when  I  took  it — for  take  it  I  must — God  would  perchance 
balance  one  thing  against  the  other. 

All  that  I  had  seen  and  thought  took  place  in  a  mere 
fraction  of  time,  and  even  before  Master  Freake  had  pulled 
up,  I  was  creeping  like  a  ferret  from  bush  to  bush  to  get 
nearer.  Then,  just  as  in  his  quiet,  measured  tones  he  was 
asking  what  they  wanted,  I  burst  out  into  the  wood,  shout- 
ing, "  Forward,  my  men,  here  the  villains  are  !  "  With  the 
words,  I  fired  my  handful  of  swan-shot  clean  into  the  group, 
and  then  charged  at  them  yelling,  in  boyish  imitation  of  a 
knight  of  old,  "  Happy  is  he  that  escapeth  me." 

The  two  dragoons  instantly  fled  with  yelps  of  pain  and 
terror,  and  the  horse,  squealing  with  fright,  began  to  rear 
and  plunge  madly  about  the  road.  Black  Vizard  turned  on 
me,  his  pistol  rang  out,  and  the  bullet  hissed  by  my  ear.  I 
sprang  at  him  with  clubbed  gun,  and  struck  hard  for  his 
head,  but  caught  him  on  the  neck  as  he  too  turned  to  flee. 
He  went  down,  spinning  and  sprawling,  in  the  road,  right 
under  the  plunging  horse.  With  a  squeal  that  curdled  my 
blood,  she  rose  in  the  air,  kicking  viciously.  Her  hoofs 
came  down  with  sickening  thuds  on  the  squirming  man's 
skull,  cracking  it  like  an  egg-shell.  His  body  twitched 
once  or  twice,  and  then  settled  into  the  stillness  of  death. 

I  seized  the  horse's  rein  and  soothed  her.  She  let  me  pat 
her  neck  and  rub  her  nose,  and  soon  stood  quiet,  her  neck 


76  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

flecked  with  foam,  her  flanks  reeking  with  sweat.  Master 
Freake,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word,  dismounted,  and  I  led 
the  mare  into  the  wood  and  hitched  her  reins  over  a  bough. 
Then  I  returned  to  the  man  I  had  saved,  and  found  him 
looking  calmly  down  on  the  man  I  had  killed.  The  black 
vizard  was  now  soaking  in  a  horrid  pool  of  blood  and  brains. 
I  stooped,  and  with  trembling  fingers  moved  it  aside  and 
revealed  the  features  of  the  dead  man.  It  was  the  pimple- 
faced  Major. 

I  turned  to  my  intended  victim,  and  found  him  looking 
calmly  and  impassively  at  me. 

"  Master  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,  unless  I  am  mis- 
taken," he  said. 

"  Your  servant,  sir,"  said  I,  rather  sourly.  But  for  that 
dead  rascal  at  our  feet  I  could  beyond  a  doubt  have  plucked 
him  like  a  chough,  and  here  I  was,  still  penniless. 

"  Master  Wheatman,  I  am  not  a  man  of  many  words, 
but  what  I  say  I  stand  by.  I  am  your  very  grateful  debtor 
for  a  very  fine  and  courageous  action.  Three  to  one  is  long 
odds,  but  you  won  with  your  brains,  sir,  as  much  as  by 
your  bravery.  Your  shout  was  an  excellent  device,  happily 
thought  on." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  I  shook  it  heartily  and  then  burst 
out  laughing,  and  laughed  on  till  tears  stood  in  my  eyes. 
And  this  was  the  end  of  my  highwaymanship  ! 

"  Since  the  danger  is,  thanks  to  you,  over,  Master  Wheat- 
man," he  said,  "  I  would  e'en  like  to  share  your  mirth — if 
I  may." 

"  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  laughing  because  I  have  saved 
you  from  robbers." 

"  But  why  laugh  ?  " 

"  Because  I  set  out  ten  minutes  ago  to  rob  you  myself." 

Master  Freake  gazed  casually  up  and  down  the  hill,  and 
then,  fixing  his  quiet  grey  eyes  on  me,  said  whimsically, 
"  I  am  a  man  of  peace,  and  unarmed  ;  the  road  is  of  a  truth 
very  lonely,  and  I  have  considerable  sums  of  money  on  me." 

"  Yes,  I'm  quite  vexed.  This  fire-faced  scoundrel  has 
upset  my  plans  finely.  I  may  not  get  as  good  a  chance  for 
hours." 

Now  it  was  his  turn    to  laugh.     "  Master  Wheatman," 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  77 

he  said,  "  you  are  not  the  stuff  highwaymen  are  made  of. 
As  you  are  in  need  of  money,  you  need  it  for  some  good 
purpose,  and  I  shall " 

He  stopped  short.  As  we  stood,  he  was  facing  the  wood 
from  which  the  robbers  had  burst  on  him,  while  I  had  my 
back  on  it.  As  he  stopped,  his  strong,  calm  face  changed, 
and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  something  in  the  wood.  Wonder, 
amazement,  delight,  awe — not  one,  but  all  of  these  emotions 
were  visible  in  his  face.  He  looked  as  one  who  sees  a  blessed 
spirit.  I  turned.  It  was  Margaret,  leaning,  pale  and  spent 
and  breathless,  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  looking  and 
shuddering  at  the  dread  object  in  the  road. 

I  bounded  up  to  her  and  touched  her  on  the  arm.  "  All's 
well,  Mistress  Waynflete,"  said  I.  "I  am  as  yet  no  gallows- 
bird." 

"  But "  Her  eyes  were  still  staring  wide  on  the 

road,  and  she  trembled  violently,  so  I  stepped  between  her 
and  the  ghastly  sight,  and  said,  "  Courage,  dear  lady.  The 
dead  man  is  your  father's  worst  enemy,  Major  Tixall,  and 
yon  horse  killed  him,  not  I." 

By  this,  Master  Freake  had  come  nearer  to  us,  and  I 
turned  to  greet  him. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  this  is  my  friend,  Master  Freake, 
whom  I  set  out  to  rob."  To  him  I  added,  "  This  is  Mistress 
Waynflete,  whom  I  have  the  honour  to  serve." 

He  bared  his  head  and  bowed.  "  And  whom  I  hope  to 
have  the  honour  of  serving  too." 

I  looked  at  him  curiously.  All  other  emotions  had 
faded  from  his  face  now,  but  it  was  clear  that  her  peerless 
and  now  so  helpless  beauty  had  appealed  home  to  him. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  recovering  herself  with  a  great  effort, 
"  I  am  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance.  And  now," — 
speaking  to  me, — "  since  you  have  given  me  a  great  fright 
and  made  me  behave  like  a  milkmaid  rather  than  a  soldier's 
daughter,  perhaps  you  will  tell  me  what  has  happened,  and 
how  it " — she  looked  over  my  shoulder — "  comes  to  be 
lying  there.  I  heard  shots  and  shrieks  that  turned  me  to 
stone.  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Master  Wheatman,"  said  our  new  acquaintance,  taking 
my  words  out  of  my  mouth,  "  is  hardly  likely  to  give  you 


78  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

a  reasonably  correct  account.  Allow  me  to  be  the  historian 
of  his  fine  conduct."  He  told  the  story  with  overmuch 
kindness  to  me,  and  as  he  told  it  the  colour  came  back  to  her 
face,  and  she  was  herself  again.  While  he  was  telling  it.  I 
noticed  for  the  first  time,  or  rather  for  the  first  time  gathered 
its  meaning,  that  she  had  run  out  after  me  without  the 
domino,  and  in  the  biting  air  she  might  easily  catch  a  chill. 
So  while  Master  Freake  was  making  a  fine  sprose  about  me, 
much  more  applicable  to  Achilles  or  the  Chevalier  Bayard, 
I  slipped  off  and  fetched  the  hat  and  coat.  He  was  just 
concluding  his  story  on  my  return,  and  without  interrupting 
him,  I  clumsily  thrust  the  hat  on  her  head  and  flung  the 
coat  over  her  shoulders. 

"  Master  Freake,"  she  said,  in  her  sweetest  bantering 
tones,  "  my  servant,  as  he  absurdly  calls  himself,  is  really 
an  artist  in  helping  people.  I  told  him  this  morning  that 
his  native  shire  was  his  conjurer's  hat,  when  he  fetched  ham 
and  eggs  out  of  it  for  poor  hungry  me.  Now  he  observes 
that  I  am  coatless  and  a-cold,  and  lo,  a  hat  is  on  my  head 
and  a  coat  on  my  shoulders.  It  is  marvellous  and  nothing 
short  of  it.  Nay,  I  shall  shun  him  as  one  in  league  with  the 
powers  of  darkness  if  there's  much  more  of  it.  If  I  be  saved, 
you  remember  Master  Slender," — this  in  a  sly  aside  to  me, — 
"  I'll  be  saved  by  them  that  have  the  fear  of  God." 

"  Ingrate  !  "  I  cried,  half  angry  and  yet  wholly  delighted  ; 
"  what  of  marvel  or  devilment  is  there  in  picking  up  a  hat 
and  coat  one  has  found  lying  under  a  tree  ?  " 

"  Major  Tixall's,"  said  Master  Freake. 

"  Ass  that  I  am,  of  course  they  are.  Steady,  Mistress 
Margaret,  while  I  go  through  the  pockets.  The  odds  are 
we  shall  find  something  useful  in  checkmating  my  Lord 
Brocton." 

In  this  I  was  wrong,  for  there  was  not  a  single  scrap  of 
writing  in  any  of  them.  I  did,  however,  fish  out  two  small 
but  heavy  packets,  wrapped  in  paper.  They  were  easily 
examined,  and  each  contained  a  roll  of  ten  guineas. 

"  The  hire  of  the  two  rascals,"  explained  Master  Freake. 

"  Really,  Mistress  Margaret,"  said  I,  "  there's  something 
in  what  you  said  just  now.  I  do  have  his  nether  highness's 
own  luck.  I  came  out  for  guineas,  prepared  to  rob  for  them, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  79 

and  here's  twenty  of  the  darlings  lying  ready  for  me  to  pick 
up.     Now  we  can  go  ahead  in  comfort." 

Through  all  this  talk  I  was  turning  over  in  my  mind 
what  account,  if  any,  we  were  to  give  Master  Freake  of  our 
being  here.  If  I  had  had  only  myself  to  consider  I  should 
have  trusted  him  without  hesitation.  He  was  the  sort  of 
man  that  inspires  confidence,  his  grave,  serene,  intelligent 
face  having  strength  and  steadfastness  written  in  every  line 
of  it.  But  I  had  Mistress  Waynflete  to  consider,  and  if  any 
appeal  was  to  be  made  for  his  assistance,  she  must  make  it. 
I'm  afraid  that  I  hoped  she  wouldn't,  since  I  was  jealous  of 
any  interference  in  my  temporary  responsibility  for  her 
welfare. 

"  Master  Freake,"  I  said,  "  some  account  will,  I  suppose, 
have  to  be  given  of  yon  ruffian's  death.  The  two  runaways 
are  scarcely  likely  to  appear  as  witnesses,  so,  for  Mistress 
Waynflete's  sake,  I  must  ask  you,  should  an  explanation 
become  necessary,  to  conceal  my  share  in  the  matter." 

"  The  manner  of  his  death  is  fortunately  quite  obvious, 
and  if  it  were  not,  any  account  I  choose  to  give  of  it  will 
pass  unquestioned." 

"  Then  it  will  be  easy  for  you,  I  hope,  to  forget  me 
when  giving  it.  And  now,  madam,  I  think  we  must  be 
moving." 

"  Before  you  go,"  said  Master  Freake,  "  let  me  say  again 
that  if  I  can  help  you,  you  have  only  to  ask.  You,  Master 
Wheatman,  because  your  twofold  signal  service  is  some- 
thing it  would  shame  me  for  ever  not  to  be  allowed  to  return, 
and  you,  madam,  because,"  he  paused,  and  the  curious  rapt 
expression  came  over  his  face  again,  "  because  you  are  very 
beautiful  and  need  help.  Your  father's  politics  will  make 
no  difficulty,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  You  know  my  father  ?  "  she  asked,  surprised. 

"  Know  of  him.  My  Lord  Brocton  was  boasting  last 
night  of  his  capture — and  of  other  things,"  he  lamely  con- 
cluded. 

"  Is  he  boasting  this  morning  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  have  not  seen  him,"  he  said,  "  but  Mistress  Dobson 
told  me  she  thought  he'd  been  rooks' -nesting  and  had  fallen 
off  the  poplar." 


8o 

"  I  met  him  again,"  said  I,  "  and  did  not  like  his  con- 
versation." 

"  Master  Wheatman  means,"  explained  Mistress  Wayn- 
flete,  "  that  he  saved  me  from  my  Lord  Brocton's  clutches  at 
the  imminent  risk  of  his  own  life."  She  stretched  out  her 
hands  and  touched  the  holes  in  my  coat  with  her  white, 
slender  fingers.  "  My  lord's  rapier  made  these,"  she  said. 

"  An  inch  to  the  left,  my  friend,"  quoth  Master  Freake, 
"  and  you'd  have  been  as  dead  as  mutton.  His  lordship,  it 
seems,  is  busily  piling  up  a  big  account  with  both  of  us. 
Well,  in  my  own  way,  I'll  make  the  rascal  pay  as  dearly  as 
you  have  in  yours.  If  you  will  be  pleased  to  accept  my 
help,  madam,  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you.  There  are,  fortu- 
nately, other1  means  than  carnal  weapons  of  influencing  such 
persons  as  Lord  Brocton." 

"  Like  Master  Wheatman,  sir,  you  are  too  good  to  a  poor 
girl."  She  said  it  gratefully  and  humbly,  and  indeed  so  she 
felt,  but  no  man  could  listen  to  her  meek  words  without 
pride. 

"  I'm  glad  I  turned  footpad,  in  spite  bf  you,"  said  I  to 
my  dear  mistress. 

"  I  can  never  thank  you  enough,"  was  the  simple  reply. 
"  It  was  wicked  in  me  to  accept  the  sacrifice,  but  in  God's 
good  providence  it  was  not  made  in  vain." 

"  Then  I  come  into  the  firm,"  said  Master  Freake 
smilingly,  and  when,  catching  the  meaning  of  his  metaphor, 
she  smiled  brightly  back  at  him,  and  held  out  her  hand,  he 
bowed  over  it  formally,  but  very  kindly,  and  kissed  it.  She 
blushed  prettily,  and  then,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
stretching  it  out  to  me,  said,  "  But  I  must  not  forget  the 
original  partner."  I  took  the  splendid  prize  in  my  rough, 
red,  farmer's  hand,  and  kissed  it  reverently.  The  touch  of 
my  lips  on  her  sweet,  smooth  flesh  made  me  tremble,  and  I 
knew  the  madness  was  creeping  over  me,  but  I  gritted  my 
teeth,  and  our  eyes  met  again.  The  blush  had  gone,  but  not 
the  smile.  It  was  not  now,  however,  the  smile  of  a  frank 
maiden  but  of  an  inscrutable  and  dominating  woman.  I 
knew  the  difference,  for  instinct  is  more  than  experience, 
and  I  chilled  into  the  yokel  again  and  wondered. 

"  In  one  sense,  at  any  rate,"  said  Master  Freake,  "  I  am 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  81 

the  senior  partner,  and  as  such  may,  without  presumption, 
speak  first.  I  must  go  on  to  Stone,  but  that  will,  I  think, 
be  best  for  our  purpose.  As  I  view  the  situation,  two  things 
are  requisite,  first  that  you,  Master  Wheatman,  should  get 
Mistress  Waynflete  in  advance  of  all  the  royal  troops,  and  so 
out  of  danger,  and  secondly  that  we  should  learn  precisely 
what  has  become  of  Colonel  Waynflete." 

"  Exactly,"  I  agreed.  "  The  action  of  Lord  Brocton  in 
sending  the  Colonel  north  instead  of  south,  or  at  least  of 
lodging  him  in  jail  at  Stafford,  is  inexplicable.  True,  his 
plan  separates  father  and  daughter,  which  is  what  he  wants, 
but  either  of  the  other  methods  would  have  served  equally 
well  for  that." 

Of  course  I  said  nothing  of  the  other  idea  that  was  haunt- 
ing my  thoughts,  the  idea  that  Brocton  was  scheming  to  get 
rid  of  the  Colonel  altogether.  In  his  lust  and  anger  he  might 
not  stick  at  that,  and  any  kind  of  encounter  with  the  enemy 
would  serve  his  turn.  The  rascals  under  him  were  worthy 
of  their  commander,  a  fact  of  which  we  had  already  ample 
proof. 

"  It  looks  crooked,  I  confess,"  was  his  reply,  "  but  there 
is  this  to  be  said  for  it,  that  the  Duke  is  following  north  along 
with  the  bulk  of  his  army,  and,  I  hear,  intends  to  make 
Stone  his  head-quarters." 

"  That  seems  absurd,"  said  I,  "  but  of  course  he  knows 
best." 

"  The  movements  of  the  Prince's  army  are  uncertain. 
The  plan  of  their  leaders  is  never  to  say  where  the  next  halt 
will  be.  They  will  be  to-day,  I  know,  in  or  near  Maccles- 
field,  and  I  learn  that  it  is  possible  they  may  turn  off  for 
Wales,  where  they  believe  they  will  find  many  recruits.  The 
farther  north  the  Duke  can  safely  go,  the  better  placed  he 
will  be  for  checking  them  if  they  do  that,  and  his  advance 
guard  is  posted  at  Newcastle.  The  question  is,  how  are  you 
to  get  there  first  and  without  being  taken  ?  " 

"  By  travelling  the  by-roads,"  said  I.  "  We'll  go  through 
Eccleshall." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you  to  get  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  About  three  hours,"  said  I,  "if  Mistress  Waynflete  can 
stand  the  pace." 
6 


82  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Very  good,"  he  replied.  "  I  will  join  you  there,  and 
do  my  best  to  get  horses  for  you  in  the  meantime,  and  bring 
them  along  with  me." 

"  That's  splendid,"  said  I,  "  but  I'd  rather  we  met  out- 
side the  village.  Not  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half  beyond 
it  on  the  Newcastle  road  there's  a  little  wayside  ale-house 
called  the  '  Ring  of  Bells,'  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  hill,  with  a 
large  pool  ringed  with  pines,  known  as  Cop  Mere,  in  front  of 
it.  It's  a  lonely  place  and  will  serve  better.  Small  place  as 
Eccleshall  is,  I  shall  skirt  round  it,  and  so  get  to  the  '  Ring 
of  Bells.'  You  cannot  miss  it  if  you  ride  through  the 
village  on  the  Newcastle  road.  Whoever' s  there  first  will 
await  the  other." 

"  Then  in  about  three  hours  we'll  meet  at  the  '  Ring  of 
Bells,'  and  I  hope  I  shall  bring  good  news  of  'the  Colonel. 
Believe  me,  dear  lady,  short  of  foul  play  on  Brocton's 
part,  and  we  have  no  reason  to  suspect  that,  your  father  will 
be  all  right.  Plain  John  Freake  is  not  without  influence. 
As  for  the  ruffian  lying  dead  in  the  road,  think  no  more  of 
him." 

So  saying  he  unhitched  his  horse,  led  her  into  the  road, 
and  mounted.  He  bowed  and  smiled,  said  cheerily,  "  A 
pleasant  walk  to  the  '  Ring  of  Bells,'  "  and  cantered  off. 

I  stepped  between  madam  and  the  dead  man.  "  We've 
found  a  good  friend  there,  Mistress  Waynflete.  Now  we'll 
put  the  hat  and  coat  as  we  found  them,  save  for  the  guineas, 
and  go  back  to  the  cottage  for  your  domino." 

She  gave  them  to  me,  and  stepped  out  briskly  towards 
the  cottage.  I  folded  up  the  coat,  put  the  hat  on  it.  looked 
again  at  the  still,  stiff  horror  in  the  road,  soaking  in  its 
own  blood,  and  silently  followed  her. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  83 

CHAPTER  X 
SULTAN 

THE  lie  of  the  land  was  as  follows :  To  get  to  the 
"  Ring  of  Bells,"  Master  Freake  would  have  to  ride  over 
the  hill  to  the  main  road  at  Weston,  thence  some  six 
miles  north-west  to  Stone,  thence  another  six  or  seven 
miles  south-west  to  the  inn.  Mistress  Waynflete  and  I  had  a 
stiff  walk  of  about  nine  miles  in  front  of  us.  For  the  first 
three  miles  our  way  ran  east  by  north,  and  then  bent  almost 
due  east  to  the  ale-house.  Our  difficulty  would  come  at 
the  bending  point,  for  there  we  should  have  to  cross  the  main 
road  from  Stafford  along  which  the  troops  would  be  filtering 
north  to  get  into  touch  with  the  Prince  and  his  Highlanders. 
If  the  Duke  had  heard  of  the  supposed  intention  of  the 
Jacobites  to  turn  off  for  Wales,  he  would,  I  imagined,  send 
a  scouting  party  through  Eccleshall  to  look  out  for  them, 
and  we  should,  for  the  second  time  in  our  journey,  be  on 
dangerous  ground  in  the  neighbourhood  of  that  village. 
The  "  Ring  of  Bells,"  however,  lay  north  of  that  village,  off 
his  obvious  line  of  march  in  that  direction,  so  that  we  stood 
a  good  chance  of  passing  unchecked  to  our  goal,  provided 
that  we  got  across  the  main  road  north  in  safety.  Fortun- 
ately, at  the  place  where  I  intended  to  cross,  it  climbed  over  a 
fairly  steep  hill,  and  we  could,  if  need  were,  lie  and  watch 
the  road  till  it  was  safe  to  venture  out. 

It  was  ticklish  work  at  the  best  and  any  break  in  our  run 
of  luck  might  ruin  us.  How  ticklish  was  vividly  brought 
home  to  me  within  a  few  minutes  of  our  getting  safe  under 
cover  in  the  cottage.  I  had,  of  course,  brought  back  the 
birding-piece  and,  after  once  more  helping  in  the  blissful 
task  of  getting  Mistress  Waynflete  into  the  domino,  bungling 
as  usual  over  arranging  the  hood  because  my  fingers  lost 
control  of  themselves  at  the  touch  of  her  hair,  I  sat  down 
to  reload  it,  intending  to  carry  it  with  me.  I  had  settled 
matters  with  the  absent  gaffer,  Doley,  by  putting  one  of  my 
guineas  conspicuously  on  the  table,  and  was  just  finishing 


84  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

my  task  when  Mistress  Waynflete,  who  had  stepped  to  the 
rear  window  and  was  looking  back  on  the  scene  of  my  recent 
exploit,  suddenly  called  out,  "  Oliver  !  Come  here  !  " 

My  heart  leaped  within  me  at  that  '  Oliver.'  True,  it 
was  the  familiarity  of  one  born  to  command,  one  who  had 
last  night  icily  desired  my  services  in  the  morning,  and, 
womanlike,  knew  that  she  could  queen  it  over  me  as  she 
listed,  but  still,  and  this  was  the  main  thing,  it  was  familiar 
and  friendly,  and  seemed  to  lift  me  a  shade  nearer  to  her. 

"  What  is  it,  madam  ?  "  I  asked  respectfully,  and  ran 
toward  her,  but  not  so  swiftly  that  I  had  not  time  to  see  the 
blue  eyes  fixed  hard  on  mine.  For  answer,  she  turned  and 
pointed  down  the  hill,  and  there  I  saw  the  patch  of  brown 
road  covered  with  wagons  and  soldiers.  In  five  minutes 
they  would  come  across  the  dead  body  of  the  Major. 

"  Good,"  said  I  indifferently,  "  they  save  me  a  guinea," 
and  I  put  the  coin  back  in  my  pocket.  The  soldiers  didn't 
matter,  but  that  look  in  her  eyes  did. 

"  Isn't  that  rather  mean  ? "  For  some  reason  she 
spoke  quite  snappily.  The  soldiers  clearly  didn't  matter  to 
her,  and  something  else  did. 

"  Which  of  the  soldiers  provided  our  breakfast,  madam  ? 
We  might  as  well  leave  a  note  asking  them  to  pick  us  up  at 
the  '  Ring  of  Bells.'  And,  madam,  you  can  trust  me  to  make 
Dick  Do  ley  content  enough  some  day." 

She  smiled,  with  her  characteristic  touch  of  chagrin.  I 
liked  her  best  so,  for  she  never  looked  daintier.  "  With 
a  bit  of  luck,  Master  Wheatman,"  she  said  whimsically, 
"  there  will  surely  come  a  time  when  you'll  be  wrong  and  I 
right.  Then,  sir,  look  out  for  crowing.  I've  never  been  so 
unlucky  with  a  man  in  my  life.  But  you'll  slip  some 
day  !  " 

"  Surely,  madam,"  I  said,  and  smiled,  "  and  then  I'll 
abide  your  gloating.  Now,  pray  you,  let  us  be  off.  We've 
hardly  a  minute  to  spare." 

Without  losing  another  second  we  started  on  our  long 
walk.  It  was  now  about  ten  of  the  clock.  The  sun  was 
shining  cheerily,  with  power  enough  to  melt  the  white 
rime  off  every  blackened  twig  it  lit  upon,  and  it  was  still  so 
cold  that  sharp  walking  was  a  keen  delight. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  85 

"  Eight  miles  and  more  of  it,  Mistress  Waynflete.  I  hope 
you  can  stand  the  pace  and  the  distance." 

"  I'm  a  soldier's  daughter,  not  an  alderman's,"  she 
replied  curtly. 

The  vicar  was  right.  "  Oliver,"  he  said  to  me  one  day, 
"  what  is  the  difference  between  the  Hebrew  Bible  and  a 
woman  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  gaping  with  astonishment,  "  I  know  not, 
but  of  a  truth  it  seems  considerable." 

"  It  is,  Oliver,"  replied  the  sweet  old  scholar.  "  Man  can 
understand  the  one  in  a  dozen  years,  if  he  try,  but  the  other 
not  in  a  lifetime,  strive  he  as  earnestly  as  he  may." 

This  fragment  of  my  dear  friend's  talk  came  back  to  me 
now  as  we  walked  in  silence  side  by  side.  Out  of  the  corner 
of  my  eye  I  could  see  her  sweet  face  set  in  earnest  thinking, 
her  rich  lips  compressed,  her  speaking  eyes  fixed  resolutely 
ahead.  Not  having  to  trouble  about  finding  the  road,  and 
there  being  no  sign  of  anyone,  either  enemy  or  neutral, 
stirring  on  the  countryside,  I  let  her  go  on  thinking,  and  set 
myself  the  pleasant  but  impossible  task  of  accounting  to 
myself  for  her  mood.  I  went  over  all  we  had  said  and  done 
together  that  day,  and  at  last,  after  perhaps  half  an  hour 
of  unbroken  silence,  fell  back  on  what  seemed  the  only  possible 
explanation.  She  was  thinking  of  her  father.  But  why 
that  suspicion  of  asperity  on  her  face  ?  Was  this  explanation 
correct  ? 

The  vicar  was  right.  She  suddenly  slipped  her  hand 
round  my  arm,  looking  at  me  with  laughing  lips  and  dancing 
eyes,  and  said,  "  Isn't  it  splendid  to  be  alive  on  a  day  like 
this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  is,"  I  replied,  "  but  from  your  looks  and 
your  long  silence,  I  should  hardly  have  judged  that  you 
were  thinking  so." 

"  You.  have  been  taking  stock  of  me,  sir  !  " 

"  Certainly  I  have  been  wondering  why  you  were  so 
silent,  and  looked  so  ...  grave." 

"  Be  honest  and  fear  not,  Master  Wheatman.  You  were 
not  going  to  say  '  grave.' ' 

"  At  the  expense  of  many  whippings  from  old  Bloggs, 
I  learned  to  be  precise  in  the  use  of  words." 


86  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  I  know,  hence  you  were  not  going  to  say  '  grave.'  " 

"  You  will  allow  me  to  choose  my  own  words,  madam." 

"  Certainly,  so  long  as  you  choose  the  right  ones." 

She  unhooked  her  hand,  and  we  walked  a  minute  or  two 
without  another  word,  she  frowning,  and  I  fuming.  Then 
she  said  wistfully,  "  Why  did  you  think  I  was  cross  ?  " 

"  I  feared  I  had  offended  you,"  said  I  hastily  and 
innocently. 

She  laughed  long  and  merrily.  "  Old  Bloggs  taught  you 
the  silly  rigmarole  you  men  call  logic,  but  he  didn't  teach 
you  woman's  logic,  that's  plain.  Don't  you  see  what  I've 
made  you  do,  Master  Wheatman  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Mistress  Waynflete." 

"  Poof,  slow-coach !  I've  made  you  admit  that  you 
were  going  to  say  '  cross  '  but  altered  it,  too  late,  to  '  grave.' ' 

"  You  outrun  me  with  your  nimble  and  practised  wit," 
said  I,  smiling. 

"  And  when  did  you  offend  me,  think  you  ?  " 

"  I  answered  you  rather  roughly  when  you  took  me  up 
about  the  guinea." 

"  Oh,  then  ?  Not  at  all.  You  snibbed  me,  but  I  richly 
deserved  it." 

Another  silence. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said.  "  Go  on  !  I  say  I  richly  deserved 
it.  Go  on  !  " 

"  Go  on  where  ?  "  I  asked  testily.  "  You're  not  expecting 
me  to  say  you  didn't,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  she  said,  "  but  it  was  good  practice 
trying  to  make  you."  So  saying,  she  slipped  her  hand  under 
my  arm  again,  and  we  stepped  it  out  together. 

The  current  of  her  thoughts  now  ran  and  glittered  in 
the  opposite  direction.  She  made  me  for  the  moment  her 
intimate,  lifting  up  the  veil  over  her  past  life,  and  giving  me 
peeps  and  vistas  of  her  wanderings  and  experiences.  She 
jested  and  gibed.  She  sang  little  snatches  of  song  in  some 
foreign  tongue.  "  You're  sure  you  don't  understand 
Italian  ?  "  she  demanded,  stopping  short  half-way  through  a 
bar,  and  quizzing  me  with  her  eyes,  now  blue  as  sapphires 
in  the  bright  sunshine. 

"  Not  a  word  of  it,"  said  I. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  87 

"  A  grave  disadvantage,"  she  said  airily.  "  It's  the  only 
language  one  can  love  in."  And  off  she  struck  again. 

Now  she  sang  something  soothing  and  sad,  with  a  wistful 
lilt  in  it  that  died  into  a  low  wail.  It  needed  no  Italian  to 
be  understood,  for  it  was  written  in  the  language  of  human 
experience.  A  woman's  heart  throbbed  in  the  lilt  and  broke 
in  the  wail. 

This  sweet  interval  of  intimacy  verging  on  friendship 
was  ended  by  our  close  approach  to  the  main  road.  We 
had  been  travelling,  heedless  of  roads  and  tracks,  across  a 
champaign  country,  and  the  slope  up  to  the  top  of  Yarlet 
Bank  now  lay  before  us.  I  led  the  way,  skulking  behind 
such  poor  cover  as  the  gaunt  hedgerows  provided,  and,  when 
only  a  hundred  paces  from  the  top,  I  asked  her  to  crouch 
down,  awaiting  my  signal  to  advance,  while  I  crept  forward 
on  my  hands  and  knees  to  the  edge  of  the  road  which  here 
climbed  the  brow  of  the  hill  through  a  deep  cutting,  along 
either  margin  of  which  ran  a  straggling  hedge. 

To  my  relief,  the  road  down  the  hill,  both  to  right  and 
left,  was  completely  deserted.  I  joyfully  waved  my  arm  to 
Mistress  Waynflete,  who  was  soon  by  my  side,  looking  down 
the  road.  To  the  right  we  could  see  for  nearly  a  mile.  On 
the  left  our  view  was  cut  short  by  a  bend,  and  I  walked 
a  score  of  yards  in  that  direction  and  shinned  up  a  stout 
sapling.  Our  luck  was  absolute.  Not  a  soldier,  not  a  living 
soul,  was  in  sight. 

"  We  might  have  had  to  skulk  here  for  hours,  waiting  for 
an  opportunity  to  cross  unseen,"  said  I,  on  rejoining  her, 
"  but  our  gods  above  are  victorious,  and  we  share  their 
victory.  So  now  for  the  '  Ring  of  Bells.'  There's  a  gate 
at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  Come  along,  Mistress  Waynflete  !  " 

She  followed  me  down  the  hedge-side.  I  turned  once  or 
twice  to  look  at  her,  carefully  pretending  that  it  was  only 
to  see  how  she  was  getting  on.  The  last  time  I  thus  stole 
another  memory  of  her  splendid  presence  we  were  only  a  few 
paces  from  the  gate,  and  when  my  reluctant  eyes  turned 
again  to  their  rightful  work,  they  looked  straight  into  a  pair 
of  fishy  eyes  set  in  a  face  as  blank  and  ugly  as  a  bladder  of 
lard. 

Face  and  eyes  belonged  to  a  big.  sleek,  sly  man,  perched 


88  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

on  the  top  bar  of  the  gate.  He  had  a  notebook  in  his  hand 
in  which  he  had  been  entering  some  jottings.  He  suspended 
his  writing  to  examine  us,  picking  his  nasty,  yellow  teeth 
meanwhile  with  the  point  of  his  pencil.  His  horse  was 
hitched  to  the  post  on  the  Stoneward  side  of  the  gate,  where 
the  stile  was.  He  was  well  enough  dressed,  and,  as  far  as  I 
could  see,  unarmed. 

It  was  a  most  exasperating  thing  to  have  pitched  into 
him,  whoever  and  whatever  he  was,  and  indeed  I  much  dis- 
liked the  look  of  him,  and  would  gladly  have  knocked  him  on 
the  head.  True,  travellers  were  not  rare  on  this  road,  since 
it  was  part  of  the  great  highway  from  London  to  Chester, 
and  the  little  thoroughfare  town  of  Stone,  some  three  miles 
ahead,  had  a  noted  posthouse.  However,  I  kept,  or  tried 
to  keep,  my  feelings  out  of  my  face  and  voice,  and  accosted 
him  cheerily. 

"  Good  day,  friend !  What  may  be  the  price  of  fat 
beeves  in  Stafford  market  to-day  ?  " 

"  Dearer  than  men's  heads  will  be  at  the  town  gates 
after  the  next  assizes,"  he  replied,  stroking  his  notebook 
and  grinning  evilly. 

"  You'll  never  light  on  a  Scotsman,  dead  or  alive,  that's 
worth  as  much  as  a  Staffordshire  heifer,"  said  I,  leading  the 
way  past  him  to  the  stile,  over  which  I  handed  Mistress 
Margaret  into  the  road. 

"  They  won't  all  be  Scotsmen,  my  friend,"  he  replied, 
still  stroking  his  notebook. 

"  No  ?  "  said  I,  eager  at  heart  to  knock  him  off  his 
perch. 

"  Nor  men,"  he  added,  leering  at  Margaret. 

"  Come  along,  Sal,"  said  I  to  her  laughingly,  "  before 
the  good  gentleman  jots  you  down  a  Jacobite." 

So  we  left  him,  and  when,  fifty  paces  down  the  road,  I 
looked  back  at  him,  he  was  jotting  in  his  notebook  again. 

"  I  think  he  knows  something  about  us,"  said  I. 

"  Very  likely,"  she  replied  calmly.  "  I've  seen  him 
once  before  in  London,  talking  to  Major  Tixall.  Who  could 
forget  a  face  like  that  ?  " 

"  He's  uglier  than  the  big-mouthed  dragoon." 

"  The  dragoon  was  at  any  rate  a  soldier." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  89 

"  And  the  worst  of  soldiers  has,  no  doubt,  some  savour 
of  grace  in  him." 

"  Quite  so,"  she  retorted.  "  His  calling  makes  it  neces- 
sary." 

"  And,  so  reasoning,  you  would  say,  I  suppose,  that  the 
best  of  fanners  was  to  seek  in  the  higher  reaches  of  manli- 
ness." 

"  Have  I  not  told  you,  Master  Oliver,  that  between  man's 
logic  and  woman's  logic  there's  a  great  gulf  fixed  ?  " 

"  Minds  are  minds,"  said  I. 

"  And  hearts  are  hearts,"  replied  she,  and  so  shut  me  up 
to  my  thinking  again. 

We  turned  into  a  cart -track  on  our  left  leading  in  the 
direction  of  Eccleshall.  As  we  turned  I  saw  that  Bladder- 
face  had  mounted  his  horse  and  was  coming  on  toward  Stone. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  we  should  be  pursued  from  that 
quarter  before  long,  and  I  grew  heavy  with  anxiety  as  I  saw 
how  hardly  we  were  being  pressed.  The  encounter  had  not, 
however,  disturbed  Mistress  Waynflete.  On  the  contrary, 
she  became  gayer  than  ever,  so  gay  that,  fool-like,  I  got  quite 
vexed  at  it,  for  it  was  clear  that  something  had  relieved  her 
anxiety,  and  I  knew  it  was  nothing  that  I  had  done.  I 
worried  over  it,  and  at  last  hit  on  the  explanation.  She 
was  rejoicing  in  the  help  of  the  new  partner. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  Master  Freake  ?  "  said  I  boorishly, 
cutting  short  a  lightsome  trill,  more  Italian  maybe. 

"  Make  of  what  ?  "  said  she  lightly. 

"  Master  Freake." 

"  Forgive  me,  Master  Wheatman,"  she  replied,  "  but  I 
didn't  take  you  as  quickly  as  I  ought  to  have  done.  I  like 
the  look  of  him.  How  pretty,  pluck  them  for  me." 

I  stopped  to  gather  the  spray  of  brilliant  vermilion 
berries  she  fancied,  saying  meanwhile,  "  I  wonder  what  he 
is  ?  Tinker,  tailor,  soldier,  sailor,  or  what  ?  " 

She  seemed  much  more  concerned  with  her  berries,  which 
she  praised  rapturously,  and  placed  carefully  in  the  bosom 
of  her  riding-dress  before  replying. 

"  He's  no  doubt  a  grave  and  prosperous  citizen  of  London. 
I've  seen  many  such,  and  he  looks  sworn  brother  to  worthy 
Alderman  Heathcoat.  Moreover,  he  talks  merchantlike." 


90  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

It  seemed  pretty  certain  that  she  had  hit  the  right  nail 
on  the  head.  Her  explanation  fitted  his  account  of  the 
large  sums  he  was  carrying  and  his  stay  with  and  hold  over 
Jack's  father.  True,  Staffordshire  seemed  the  wrong  place 
for  such  a  man.  Both  he  and  his  money  would  have  been 
far  safer  in  Change  Alley.  If  her  explanation  was  acute  and 
probable,  her  manner  of  making  it  had  convinced  me  that 
my  explanation  of  her  gaiety  was  wrong.  Of  him  she  cer- 
tainly had  not  been  thinking.  Then  there  was  only  one 
thing  left  to  account  for  it.  What  makes  a  maid  as  merry 
as  a  grig  ?  Didn't  our  Kate  sing  all  morning  when  Jack 
was  coming  in  the  afternoon  ? 

It  was  no  concern  of  mine,  and  as  a  man  sometimes  makes 
his  right  hand  play  his  left  hand  at  chess,  so  I  now  made 
stern  Oliver  lecture  paltering  Wheatman,  but  without  doing 
him  much  good.  Naturally  all  this  made  me  a  poor  com- 
panion on  the  road,  and  for  a  long  time  Mistress  Waynflete 
bore  with  me  patiently.  Then  she  turned  from  her  tra-la-la-ing 
to  waken  me  up,  roundly  declaring  that  I  was  bored  with  her 
company ;  and  I  had  no  defence,  ridiculous  as  the  charge  was. 

"  I've  sung  every  song  I  know,  and  sung  them  my  best, 
too,  and  you've  never  once  praised  me.  You'll  have  to 
learn,  you  know,  Master  Oliver,  to  smile  at  a  lady  even  when 
you  really  want  to  smack  her.  What  do  you  do  ?  You 
just  write  on  your  face  as  plainly  as  this  " — and  here  her 
dainty  finger  toured  her  face,  ending  up  where  the  tear  of 
milk  had  trembled — "  S-M-A-C-K."  I  roared  aloud,  she  did 
it  so  frankly  and  mirthfully.  What  a  treasury  of  moods  she 
was  !  She  had  stepped  across  our  house-place  like  a  queen, 
she  had  fronted  that  devil,  Brocton,  like  a  goddess,  and  now 
she  was  larking  like  a  schoolmaid. 

Long  as  the  way  was,  we  seemed  to  me  to  be  getting  over 
the  ground  too  rapidly.  Mistress  Waynflete  did  not  tire,  and 
did  full  credit  to  her  father's  soldiership.  We  circled  round 
the  red-tiled  roofs  of  Eccleshall,  and  at  length  took  shelter 
in  the  pines  that  ringed  the  great  pool.  Across  the  mere 
lay  the  road,  and  on  the  far  side  of  the  road  from  us  was  the 
"  Ring  of  Bells,"  standing  well  back,  with  a  little  green  in  front, 
in  the  centre  of  which  a  huge  post  carried  a  board  bearing 
the  rudely  painted  sign  of  the  ale-house. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  91 

I  scouted  ahead,  dodging  from  tree  to  tree  along  the  edge 
of  the  mere,  in  order  to  keep  out  of  view  of  anyone  moving 
on  the  road.  Over  against  the  ale-house  I  crept  still  more 
warily  through  the  wood  to  the  edge  of  the  road.  There 
was  no  one  moving  in  or  about  the  ramshackle  little  place, 
but  there  was  one  unexpected  thing  in  sight  which  gave  me 
pause.  Hitched  by  the  reins  to  a  staple  in  the  signpost  was 
the  finest  horse  I  had  ever  set  eyes  on,  a  slender,  sinewy 
stallion,  champing  on  his  bit  and  pawing  nervously  on  the 
stone-hard  ground. 

Here  was  the  shadow  of  a  new  trouble,  though,  indeed, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  surprised  at,  seeing  that  the  country- 
side far  and  near  was  buzzing  with  enemy  activities.  A  rat 
in  a  barn  might  as  justly  complain  of  being  tickled  by  straws 
as  I  of  jostling  into  difficulties.  The  horse  without  betokened 
a  rider  within,  and  probably  some  one  in  the  Duke's  horse. 
I  beckoned  Mistress  Waynflete,  and  by  signs  indicated  that 
extreme  caution  was  necessary.  During  the  moments  I  was 
awaiting  her  I  examined  the  birding-piece  to  make  sure  it 
was  in  order.  Caution,  however,  she  flung  to  the  winds,  for 
the  moment  she  set  eyes  on  the  horse  she  joyously  shouted 
'  Sultan  '  and  made  a  wild,  happy  dash  to  cross  the  road. 

I  stopped  her  sternly,  and  in  a  brief  whisper  asked, 
"  Who's  Sultan  ?  " 

"  Father's  horse." 

"  We  do  not  know  for  sure  that  your  father  is  in  the  inn 
because  his  horse  is  outside,  and  by  your  leave,  madam,  we'll 
make  sure  first.  Keep  right  behind  yon  thick  tree,  and  await 
my  return." 

She  looked  calmly  at  me,  but  even  before  she  could  glide 
off,  there  came  from  the  ale-house  an  appalling  volley  of 
oaths  and  curses.  It  was  a  man's  voice,  yelling  in  agonized 
blasphemy,  and  a  woman's  shrill  treble  floated  on  the  surface 
of  the  stream  of  virulence. 

I  caught  Mistress  Waynflete's  wrist  and  steadied  her. 
"  Not  your  father,  apparently  ?  "  I  said  in  a  cool  voice, 
though  my  head  was  whirling  a  bit  under  the  strain. 
"  Here,"  I  went  on,  fetching  a  fistful  out  of  my  pocket, 
"  are  some  guineas.  Follow  me,  unhitch  the  horse,  and  if  I 
shout  to  you  to  be  off,  mount  him  from  yon  horse- trough, 


93  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

and  away  like  lightning.  That's  the  road  to  .Eccleshall, 
along  which  Master  Freake  is  bound  to  come." 

I  thrust  the  guineas  into  her  hand,  gripped  my  weapon, 
slipped  out  of  the  pines  and  across  the  road,  circled  the  horse, 
and  made  to  peep  round  the  jamb  of  the  open  door  into  the 
guest-room  of  the  ale-house.  As  I  did  so,  the  man  yelled, 
"  God  damn,  I'm  on  fire  !  "  and  the  woman  shrieked  back, 
"  Burn,  you  foul  devil,  burn,  and  be  damned  !  " 

This  was  enough,  and  I  burst  in  on  a  spectacle,  strange, 
serious,  on  the  point  of  becoming  terrible,  and  yet  almost 
laughable.  In  the  middle  of  the  room,  a  stout,  shock-headed, 
red-elbowed  woman  stood,  a  pikel  in  her  strong  outstretched 
hands.  The  sergeant  of  dragoons,  with  his  back  to  a  roaring 
fire,  was  pinned  against  the  hearthstead  by  the  pitchfork,  the 
tines  of  which  were  stuck  in  the  oak  lintel  of  the  chimney- 
piece,  so  that  a  ring  of  steel  encircled  his  throat  like  the 
neckhole  of  a  pillory,  and  held  him  there  helpless  and  roast- 
ing. When  I  first  caught  sight  of  him  he  was  making  a 
frenzied  attempt  to  wrench  the  prongs  out,  but,  finding  it 
hopeless,  drew  his  tuck,  and  lashed  out  at  the  woman.  She 
calmly  shifted  out  of  reach  along  the  handle  of  the  fork. 
He  then  hacked  fiercely  but  without  much  effect  on  the 
wooden  handle,  and  finally,  in  his  despair  and  agony,  poised 
the  tuck  and  cast  it  at  her  javelin-fashion.  The  woman, 
cooler  than  he  in  both  senses  of  the  term,  dodged  it  easily. 
How  she  had  contrived  to  pin  him  in  such  a  helpless  manner, 
I  could  not  imagine.  The  motive  was  obvious.  A  little 
girl  lay  writhing  and  sobbing  on  the  floor  amid  the  fragments 
of  a  broken  mug  and  a  scattering  of  copper  and  silver  coins. 

"  You've  got  him  safe  enough,  mother,"  said  I,  "  and 
it's  no  good  cooking  him  since  you  can't  eat  him." 

"  Be  yow  another  stinking  robber,  like  this'n  ? "  she 
demanded.  The  epithet  was  as  apt  as  it  was  vigorous,  for 
the  stink  of  singeing  cloth  made  me  sniff.  "  If  y'be,"  she 
went  on,  "  I'll  shove'  im  in  the  fire  and  set  about  yow." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  mother.  I've  come  to  help  you,  but 
shift  him  along  a  bit  out  of  the  heat,  and  then  we'll  settle 
what  to  do  with  him."  To  him  I  added,  "  Understand, 
sergeant,  any  attempt  to  fight  or  fly,  and  your  neck  will  be 
wrung  like  a  cockerel's."  Then  laying  down  my  gun  I 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  93 

pulled  out  the  tines  and  shifted  him  along  the  lintel  till  he 
was  out  of  danger.  The  woman,  whose  fierce  determination 
never  faltered,  jammed  the  pikel  in  again  and  kept  him 
trapped. 

I  went  to  the  door  and  saw  Mistress  Waynflete  standing 
by  Sultan's  head,  and  the  proud  beauty  arching  his  neck 
in  his  joy  at  finding  his  mistress  near  him.  I  beckoned 
her. 

"  An  old  acquaintance,  in  a  fix.  Come  in  !  "  said  I,  and 
introduced  her  to  the  strange  scene.  "  The  sergeant,  madam," 
I  went  on,  "  and  he  has  been  plucked  like  a  brand  from  the 
burning."  She  took  in  the  scene,  judged  what  had  happened, 
and  then  gathered  up  the  child,  who  had  ceased  crying  out 
of  curiosity,  and  mothered  the  little  one  so  sweetly  that  the 
red-elbowed  woman  cried  out  hearty  thanks. 

In  brief  the  story,  as  collected  later  from  the  mother  and 
child,  was  that  the  sergeant  had  ridden  up  and  asked  for  a 
meal.  After  he  had  had  some  bread  and  cheese  and  ale,  he 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  alewife's  absence  to  ask  the 
child  where  mother  kept  her  money,  and,  receiving  no  answer, 
had  twisted  the  poor  little  one's  arm  until  in  her  terror  and 
agony  she  had  told  him  of  the  secret  hole  in  the  chimney 
where  the  money  was  kept  in  a  coarse  brown  mug.  The 
child's  cry  had  brought  the  mother  running  back  with  the 
pikel,  snatched  up  on  the  way,  and  she,  taking  him  at  un- 
awares with  the  mug  in  his  hand,  had  darted  at  him  and 
luckily  caught  him  round  the  neck,  and  pinned  him  against 
the  fireplace  as  I  had  found  him.  Let  him  go  she  dared  not, 
for  she  was  alone  except  for  the  child,  and  but  for  my  arrival 
he  would  have  roasted  right  enough  till  he  was  helpless. 
As  it  was  the  skirts  of  his  coat  were  smouldering,  and  he  had 
only  just  escaped  serious  injury.  In  fact,  although  smarting 
sore,  he  was  so  little  damaged  that  after  tearing  away  the 
burnt  tails,  he  collected  himself  and  tried  to  bam  me. 

"  Master  Wheatman,"  he  began,  "  I  call  upon  you  in 
the  King's  name  to  aid  and  assist  me.  This  woman's  tale 
is  all  a  lie.  The  mug  was  on  the  chimney-top  for  anyone  to 
see,  and  I  only  took  it  down  to  examine  it,  being  struck 
with  its  appearance." 

"  Also  in  the  King's  name,  Master  Sergeant,"  was  my 


04  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

reply,  "  I  propose  to  have  you  handed  over  to  the  nearest 
justice  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond." 

"  And  you  shall  explain  why  you  are  here  with  your — 
I  should  have  strangled  him  if  his  foul  tongue  had  wagged 
one  word  of  insult,  and  he  saw  it  in  my  eyes.     He  stopped, 
and  his  face  showed  that  he  had  discovered  the  secret. 

"  The  sergeant  recognizes  you  again,  Molly,"  said  I 
lightly. 

"  Bammed  and  beaten  by  a  damned  yokel  ?  "  he  burst 
out.  "  Ten  thousand  devils  !  Where  were  my  eyes  yester- 
day ?  "  In  his  anger  he  began  to  strain  at  his  steel  cravat. 

"  Virgil  for  ever  !  The  first  town  we  come  to  I'll  buy 
me  a  Latin  grammar,"  said  Margaret  to  me,  with  a  low  ripple 
of  laughter. 

"  How'd  on,  fool,"  said  the  alewife  to  the  sergeant.  "  Yow 
wunna  be  wuth  hangin'  if  y'  carry  on  a  this'n." 

"  If  you  don't  loose  me,  you  old  bitch,"  he  shouted, 
"  I'll  see  you  hanged !  Loose  me,  for  your  neck's  sake ! 
These  people  are  Jacobites  !  " 

"  Gom,  I  dunna  know  what  that  be,  but  I  wish  Stafford- 
sheer  was  full  on  'em.  'Tinna  any  good  chokin'  y'rsen,  I 
shanna  let  go." 

This  method  of  keeping  him,  however,  rendered  the 
alewife  useless,  so  I  took  her  place,  and  bade  her  fetch  the 
longest  and  toughest  rope  she'd  got.  She  brought  me  a 
beauty  and  with  it  I  trussed  the  sergeant,  tying  him  securely 
into  a  heavy,  clumsy  chair,  and  leaving  him  as  helpless  as 
a  fowl  ready  for  roasting.  Then  a  thought  struck  me  and 
I  went  through  his  pockets.  His  very  stillness  made  me 
careful  in  my  search,  but  I  found  only  some  old  bills  for 
fodder  and  other  military  papers,  and  a  heavily  sealed  letter 
addressed  "  To  His  ROYAL  HIGHNESS."  I  was  not  quite 
Jacobite  enough  to  make  me  willing  to  steal  a  dispatch 
addressed  to  the  Royal  Duke,  and  I  should  have  thrust  it 
and  the  oddments  of  paper  back  again  but  for  the  rattle  of 
hoofs  outside.  It  was  probably  Master  Freake,  and  I  was 
particularly  anxious  that  the  sergeant  should  not  see  him, 
so  I  rushed  out  with  all  the  papers  in  my  hand  to  forestall 
him. 

Hurrying  outside  I  saw  Master  Freake  hitching  his  horse 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  95 

to  the  signpost,  and  Mistress  Waynflete  already  talking  to 
him  eagerly.  When  I  got  up  he  delivered  his  news  briefly 
and  to  the  point,  and  bad  news  it  was. 

He  had  learned  in  Stone  that  the  Colonel  had  again  been 
taken  on  ahead  towards  Newcastle  in  charge  of  a  troop  of 
Brocton's  dragoons  under  the  command  of  Captain  Rigby, 
"  last  night's  table  companion  of  the  dead  Major,"  he 
explained. 

"  Whatever  for  ?  "  asked  Mistress  Waynflete. 

Master  Freake  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  were  troubled, 
and  I  knew  there  was  something  he  would  fain  conceal. 

"  Whatever  for  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Could  you  learn  of 
no  reason  ?  " 

"  I  was  told,"  he  answered  slowly,  "  that  Colonel  Wayn- 
flete's  knowledge  and  assistance  would  be  invaluable  to  the 
royal  troops." 

"  Told  that  my  father  had  turned  traitor  !  Is  that  what 
you  mean,  sir  ?  "  Scorn  too  great  for  anger  covered  her 
face,  veiling  its  sweetness  as  with  a  fiery  cloud. 

"  That  is  the  plain  English  of  what  I  was  told,  I  must 
admit."  Here  was  the  grave,  businesslike  nature  of  the 
man,  plainly  posing  awkward  questions  that  had  to  be 
answered. 

"  It's  a  wicked  lie  !  "  she  burst  out.  She  turned  her  face 
proudly  to  look  into  mine,  and  I  saw  that  her  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Naturally,  madam,"  said  I. 

"  My  father's  honour  is  mine,  Master  Wheatman,  and  I 
am  your  debtor  for  another  splendid  courtesy." 

"  I  argue  from  the  flower  to  the  tree.  Man's  logic,  and 
therefore  necessarily  imperfect,  you  would  say,  but  for  once 
I  stick  to  it."  I  spoke  lightly  and  reminiscently,  so  as  to 
chase  the  gloom  from  her  mind,  and  she  was  immediately 
herself  again. 

Master  Freake  continued  his  story,  which  went  from  bad 
to  worse.  As  I  had  expected,  Bladderface  had  ridden  into 
Stone,  and  the  result  of  his  communication  to  Captain  Rigby 
had  been  that  orders  were  issued  for  our  pursuit,  and  Master 
Freake  had  left  the  town  not  very  far  in  advance  of  the 
squad  of  horse  sent  on  our  track.  He  had  thus  been  unable 


96  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

to  procure  horses  for  us,  but  at  Eccleshall  he  had  managed 
to  obtain  a  pillion  for  Margaret's  use  behind  him. 

This  was  awkward  indeed,  for  though  Master  Freake  had 
ridden  hard,  the  pursuit  could  not  be  very  far  behind,  and  if, 
as  was  almost  certain,  the  dragoons  turned  up  at  the  "  Ring  of 
Bells,"  the  sergeant  would  be  set  free,  and  be  after  us  like 
a  mad  bull.  There  was,  however,  a  margin  of  time  available, 
and  therefore  I  put  this  problem  out  of  my  mind,  and  attended 
only  to  the  urgent  one  of  the  Colonel's  position. 

To  me  there  was  only  one  explanation  possible.  This 
continual  shifting  of  the  Colonel,  ever  under  the  charge  of 
those  rascally  dragoons,  commanded  now  by  a  man  whose 
familiarity  with  Tixall  was  an  evil  augury,  meant  one  thing 
only.  Soon,  perhaps  within  an  hour  or  two,  there  would 
be  fighting,  and  under  cover  of  that  a  stab  in  the  back  or  a 
bullet  in  the  head  would  clear  the  Colonel  out  of  Brocton's 
path  for  ever. 

"  Take  these  papers,  Master  Freake,"  said  I.  "  Mistress 
Waynflete  will  tell  you  what  has  happened  here,  and  you 
can  give  them  back  to  their  owner  if  you  choose.  But  do 
not,  I  beg  you,  on  any  account  let  the  rascal  inside  see  or 
hear  you." 

I  raced  indoors,  seized  the  sergeant's  tuck  and  took  his 
baldrick  from  him,  heedless  of  his  vile  threats.  I  left  him 
there,  choking  with  foulness,  unhitched  Sultan,  sprang  into 
the  saddle,  and  cantered  up  to  my  friends. 

"  Now,  Mistress  Margaret,"  I  said,  "  describe  your  father 
so  that  I  shall  know  him  when  I  see  him." 

She  sketched  his  portrait  in  broad,  clear  outlines,  and 
I  fixed  the  description  point  by  point  in  my  memory. 

"  That's  the  road  to  Newcastle,"  said  I,  pointing  along 
the  edge  of  the  mere,  "  and  it's  fairly  straight  and  good. 
Follow  me  there  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and  inquire  for  me  at 
the  '  Rising  Sun.'  I'll  have  news  of  the  Colonel,  if  not  the 
Colonel  himself,  when  we  meet  again." 

I  bowed  to  Margaret,  dug  my  heels  into  Sultan,  and  was 
of!  like  a  flash. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  97 

CHAPTER   XI 
IN  WHICH  I  SLIP 

SULTAN  was  a  horse  for  a  man,  long  and  regular  in 
his  stride,  perfect  in  action,  quick  to  obey,  cat-like 
at  need.  I  might  have  ridden  him  from  the  day  on 
which  the  blacksmith  drank  his  colt-ale,  for  we  understood 
each  other  exactly,  and  I  was  as  comfortable  on  his  back 
as  in  my  bed  at  the  Hanyards.  In  the  open  road  at  the 
mere-end,  he  settled  down  into  a  steady,  loping  trot,  and  I 
was  free  to  think  matters  out  to  the  music  of  his  hoof-beats 
on  the  road. 

It  was  only  eight  or  nine  miles  into  Newcastle,  and  as  the 
dragoons  would  travel  slowly  and  warily  there  was  just  a 
chance  that  I  should  be  there  first.  Further,  it  was  wholly 
unlikely  that  I  should  be  interfered  with,  since  the  only 
two  enemies  who  knew  I  was  aiding  Mistress  Margaret  were 
helpless  in  my  rear — Brocton  at  Stafford,  and  the  sergeant 
in  the  "  Ring  of  Bells."  I  was  unknown  in  the  town,  not 
having  been  there  since  my  schooldays,  and  then  only  on 
rare  occasions,  as  a  visit  to  the  town  meant  a  thirty-mile 
walk  in  one  day. 

Plan-making  was  futile.  Everything  would  depend  upon 
chance,  but  if  chance  threw  me  into  touch  with  the  Colonel, 
it  should  go  hard  if  I  did  not  free  him  somehow  or  other. 
The  most  splendid  thing  would  be  if  I  could  free  him  before 
Margaret  overtook  me  at  the  "  Rising  Sun."  True,  I  had  only 
an  hour  or  so  to  spare,  but  now  strange  things  happened  in 
an  hour  of  my  life,  and  this  great  luck  might  be  mine.  Then 
would  come  my  rich  and  rare  reward — the  light  in  her  deep, 
blue  eyes  and  the  tremulous  thanks  on  her  ripe,  red  lips. 

And  then  a  thought  smote  me  like  a  blow  between  the  eyes, 
so  that  I  dizzied  a  moment,  and  the  day  grew  grey  and  the 
outlook  blank.  The  finding  of  the  Colonel  meant  the  losing 
of  Margaret.  Father  and  daughter  reunited,  my  work  would 
be  done  ;  the  day  of  the  hireling  would  be  accomplished. 
Need  for  me  there  would  be  none.  The  old  life  would  again 
7 


98  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

claim  me,  justly  claim  me  too,  for  was  I  not,  though  all 
unworthily  and  unprofitably,  the  only  son  of  my  sweet 
mother,  and  she  a  widow.  I  could  see  her  in  the  house- 
place  at  the  Hanyards,  her  calm  eyes  fixed  in  sorrow  on  my 
empty  chair.  A  man  shall  leave  father  and  mother,  yes,  for 
one  particular  cause,  but  the  only  son  of  a  widowed  mother 
for  no  cause  whatsoever.  Christ,  I  said  to  myself,  would 
not  have  raised  the  young  man  of  Nain  merely  to  get  married. 

Still  there  was  the  work,  and  I  spurned  my  gloomy 
thoughts  and  turned  to  think  of  it.  And  first  I  took  stock 
of  my  means  of  offence.  There  were  loaded  pistols  in  the 
holsters,  fine  long  weapons  with  polished  walnut  stocks 
inlaid  with  silver  lacery  and  the  initials  '  C.W.',  the  Colonel's 
without  a  doubt.  At  the  saddle-bow  there  hung  a  sizeable 
leathern  pouch,  and  this  I  found  to  contain  a  good  supply  of 
charges.  I  was  a  sure  shot,  and  I  tried  my  skill  on  a  gate 
as  Sultan  flew  by,  splintering  the  latch  at  which  I  aimed 
to  a  nicety,  the  well-trained  horse  taking  no  more  notice 
of  the  shot  than  of  a  wink  at  a  passing  market-wench.  So 
far  so  good.  Then  there  was  the  sergeant's  tuck,  and  I 
shouted  with  a  schoolboy's  glee  at  having  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  a  sword  at  my  side.  Of  how  to  use  it  I  knew 
nothing,  unless  many  bouts  at  single-stick  with  Jack  should 
be  some  sort  of  apprenticeship  in  swordcraft.  I  practised 
pulling  it  out,  and  then,  imitating  Brocton,  made  the  forty- 
inch  blade  twist  and  tang  in  the  air,  which  pleased  me  greatly. 
I  felt  quite  a  Cavalier  now,  and  said  within  myself  that  old 
Smite-and-spare-not's  bones  should  soon  be  rustling  in  their 
grave  with  envy. 

And  so  into  Meece,  wondering  if  the  fat  host  of  the  "  Black 
Bull"  would  recognize  in  the  splendidly  mounted  horseman 
the  dusty  schoolboy  of  ten  years  ago.  There  he  was  in  the 
porch,  grown  intolerably  fatter,  talking  to  my  ancient  gossip, 
Rupert  Toms,  the  sexton,  now  heavily  laden  with  years  and 
infirmities.  I  pricked  on,  having  no  time  to  spare  for  either 
prayer  or  provender,  since  every  moment  was  precious, 
though  a  tankard  of  double  October,  mulled  with  spice  and 
laced  with  brandy,  would  have  been  precious  too,  for  the 
matter  of  that. 

At  the  tail  of  the  village,  where  the  curve  of  the  road 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  99 

runs  into  the  straight  again  to  climb  the  long  hill,  I  came 
for  a  moment  into  touch  with  my  affair.  A  horseman  was 
in  sight,  rattling  down  the  slope,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  an 
officer,  a  keen-featured,  middle-aged  man,  with  the  set  face 
of  one  who  rides  on  urgent  business.  Yet  he  checked  his 
horse  when  near  me,  and  cried  curtly,  "  What  news  from 
Stafford  ?  " 

A  word  with  him  might  be  worth  while,  so  I  too  pulled 
up  and  answered  very  politely,  "  It's  market-day." 

"  Damn  the  market  !  What  news  of  the  troops,  sir  ?  Is 
my  Lord  Brocton  still  there  ?  " 

"  I  believe  he  is." 

"  Then  damn  my  Lord  Brocton  !  Did  you  chance  to  see 
him?  " 

"  I  had  that  honour  late  last  night." 

"  Anything  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  He'd  had  enough,"  said  I  simply. 

"  That's  what  comes  of  shoving  sprigs  of  your  bottle- 
sucking  nobility  into  the  service.  Damn  his  nobility ! 
There's  another  of  them  back  yonder,  as  much  use  as  an 
old  tup." 

"  If  I  detain  you  much  longer,"  said  I,  with  exaggerated 
sweetness,  "  you'll  be  damning  me." 

"  Nothing  likelier.  I  damn  everything  and  everybody 
that  don't  suit  me.  That's  why  I'm  captain  at  fifty  instead 
of  colonel  at  thirty.  What  of  it  ?  " 

"  Lord  Brocton's  nine  miles  off,  and  I'm  not." 

"  Think  I  care  ?  Damn  you,  too,  and  I'll  fight  you 
when  we  meet  again.  Like  a  lark !  Wish  I'd  time  now. 
Good  day,  sir  !  " 

He  dug  the  rowels  into  his  horse  and  was  off.  An  earnest, 
choleric  man  with  his  heart  in  his  work,  for  which  I  liked  him, 
even  to  his  persistent  damning. 

I  put  Sultan  to  the  slope  and  he  kept  bravely  at  it  till 
I  eased,  him  off  where  the  rise  was  steepest.  My  late 
encounter  clearly  meant  that  affairs  were  ripening  fast 
farther  north,  and  it  might  also  mean  danger  behind  me 
sooner  than  I  had  looked  for.  The  blood  danced  in  my  veins 
at  the  prospect  of  the  adventures  that  awaited  me.  Ho, 
for  life  and  work  1  Would  it  be  long  before  the  blue  eyes 


ioo  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

lanced  me  through  and  through  again,  as  when  I  kissed  her 
hand  among  the  trees  by  the  roadside  ?  I  looked  at  the 
frosty  sun  and  judged  that  it  was  nigh  on  twenty-four  hours 
since  I  had  stood  in  the  porch  and  watched  mother  and 
Kate  across  the  cobbles  into  the  road — twenty-four  hours 
that  had  done  more  for  me  than  the  twenty-four  years 
that  had  gone  before  them,  for  they  had  given  me  a  man's 
task,  a  man's  thoughts,  the  stirrings  of  a  man's  being,  the 
beginning  of  a  man's  agony. 

We  were  at  the  top  now  with  the  open  country  stretch- 
ing for  miles  around  us.  But  the  dale  beneath,  through 
which  the  main  road  ran  a  mile  away  to  the  east,  was  thick 
with  trees,  and  I  could  get  no  inkling  of  how  things  were 
going.  I  strained  my  ears  to  listen,  but  no  warning  sound 
could  I  hear.  The  countryside  was  still  and  calm  as  a 
frozen  sea,  and  war  and  its  terrors  seemed  so  impossible 
that  for  a  moment  I  felt  as  if  it  was  only  a  dream-life  that  I 
was  living  and  that  I  must  wake  soon  and  hear  Joe  Braggs 
trolling  out  his  morning  song  in  honour  of  Jane.  But 
Sultan  craned  round  his  shapely  head  as  if  to  ask  me  why  I 
was  loitering  in  the  cold,  bleak  air ;  so  with  a  cheery  slap  on 
his  glossy  neck,  I  gave  him  the  reins  and  away  he  went,  with 
me  spitting  ghostly  Broctons  on  the  sergeant's  tuck.  Through 
the  skirts  of  the  woodland  he  carried  me,  and  then  up  again 
till  on  the  top  of  Clayton  Bank  I  pulled  him  up  a  second 
time  for  another  survey  of  the  situation. 

The  little  town  was  now  in  full  view  a  mile  ahead,  lying 
on  the  slope  and  top  of  some  rising  ground.  Across  the 
meadows  to  my  right,  and  now  plainly  to  be  seen  less  than 
half  a  mile  away,  was  the  main  road  from  Stone.  Again 
I  was  disappointed.  A  long,  rude  post-wagon,  pulled  by 
eight  horses  and  driven  by  a  man  on  an  active  little  nag, 
was  groaning  its  way  south ;  a  solitary  horseman  was 
ambling  north — and  that  was  all  I  could  see. 

What  had  happened  to  the  Colonel  ?  Were  the  dragoons 
in  the  town  or  not  ?  I  dug  my  heels  into  Sultan's  flanks 
and  put  him  to  it  at  his  best,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

The  town  consists  in  the  main  of  two  streets.  The  High 
Street  is  simply  the  town  part  of  the  main  road  from  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  101 

south  and  Stone  to  Congleton  and  the  north — the  line  along 
which  the  Stuart  Prince  was  marching.  It  deserves  its  name, 
for  it  lies  along  the  edge  of  the  slope  on  which  the  town  lies. 
Parallel  to  it  in  the  dip  lies  Lower  Street,  and  the  road  I 
was  on  curls  past  the  end  of  this  street  and  climbs  gently 
to  join  the  upper  road.  I  could  thus  get  into  the  heart  of 
the  town  through  the  poorer  quarter  of  it,  and  soon  the 
kidney-stones  of  Lower  Street  rang  under  Sultan's  hoofs. 

The  stir  and  noise  of  Stafford  was  completely  absent. 
The  townspeople,  mainly  hatters  by  trade,  were  plying  their 
craft  indoors  as  if  no  enemy  were  at  their  gate.  In  fact,  as 
I  learned  afterwards,  there  was  no  fuss  and  much  fun  and 
good  business  when  the  Highlanders  actually  came  on  the 
scene.  The  farther  a  town  was  from  them  the  more  it 
funked  them,  which  was,  as  everybody  knows  now,  truest  of 
all  of  London.  As  I  turned  up  the  lane  by  St.  Giles',  the 
church  bells  chimed  two.  Past  the  church  in  the  corner 
between  the  lane  and  the  High  Street  was  the  "  Rising  Sun." 
Once  Sultan  was  safe  in  its  stables  I  could  set  about  getting 
news  of  the  Colonel  before  Margaret  and  Master  Freake 
arrived. 

It  was  stiff  work  up  the  last  thirty  yards,  and  Sultan 
shook  himself  together  after  it  when  he  drew  out  on  the 
level  High  Street.  Here  were  throngs  of  people  and  some 
signs  of  trouble  toward.  In  particular  I  noticed  the  town 
fathers  in  their  black  gowns  of  office,  and,  most  conspicuous 
of  all,  the  crimson  and  fur  of  his  worship.  I  judged  they 
were  coming  from  a  council  meeting  in  the  town  hall,  which 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  wide  High  Street.  There  was 
much  high  debate,  wagging  of  fingers  and  smiting  of  fist  in 
palm,  but  no  approach  to  the  tumult  and  terror  of  yester- 
night. The  Mayor  stood  for  a  moment  confabbing  at  the 
door  of  a  grocery,  and  then  shot  into  it.  I  saw  him  struggling 
out  of  his  gown  as  he  disappeared,  and  thence  inferred  that 
the  chief  burgess  was  a  grocer  in  private  life. 

So  much  I  saw  before  pulling  Sultan  round  to  pass  under 
the  archway  leading  into  the  yard  of  the  "  Rising  Sun."  I  dis- 
mounted and  called  for  an  ostler.  No  man  appearing,  I  was 
about  to  lead  Sultan  farther  down  the  yard  towards  the 
stables  when  there  was  a  scurry  of  feet  behind  me  as  if  the 


102  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

whole  ostler-tribe  of  the  "  Rising  Sun  "  was  hastening  to  my 
assistance.  I  turned  round  rattily  to  find  myself  looking 
into  the  barrel  of  a  pistol,  while  three  or  four  men  pounced 
on  me  and  pinned  me  against  the  wall. 

"  Damn  ye,  horse-thief,  for  the  black  of  a  bean  I'd  blow 
your  brains  out,"  said  Colonel  Waynflete.  "  Stick  tight, 
lads  ;  and  you,  good  host,  fetch  along  Master  Mayor  and  the 
constable,  and  have  me  the  scoundrel  laid  by  the  heels.  If 
this  were  only  my  commandery  on  the  Rhine  !  I'd  strappado 
you  and  then  hang  you  within  the  next  half-hour.  My  bonny 
Sultan  !  How  are  you,  my  precious  ?  " 

When  a  raw  youth  leaves  farming  for  knight-erranting 
he  must  expect  sharp  turns  and  rough  tumbles,  but  surely 
Fate  and  Fortune  were  overdoing  it  now.  It  was  the  Colonel 
beyond  doubt,  and  Margaret  had  limned  him  to  the  life. 
The  hawk-eyes,  the  hook  nose,  the  leathery  skin,  the  orange- 
tawny  campaign-wig  with  the  grizzled  hair  peeping  under 
the  rim  of  it,  the  tall,  thin,  supple  figure,  all  were  there.  And 
if  I  had  been  in  any  doubt  of  it,  Sultan  would  have  settled 
the  matter,  for  his  pleasure  at  finding  his  master  was  de- 
lightful to  witness. 

In  hot  blood  I  did  not  mind  a  pistol,  and  in  the  coldest 
blood  I  could  easily  have  kicked  loose  from  the  men  who 
had  got  hold  of  me.  But  Margaret  kept  my  limbs  idle  and 
my  mouth  shut.  There  was  no  real  danger,  for  that  matter, 
unless  Margaret  and  Master  Freake  failed  to  turn  up  at  the 
"  Rising  Sun,"  and  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose  they  would 
fail.  The  Colonel  gave  me  no  chance  to  speak  to  him 
privately,  and  to  speak  to  him  publicly  might  upset  his 
plans.  How  he  had  got  here  a  free  man,  what  strange  turn 
things  had  taken  in  his  favour,  I  could  not  imagine.  Margaret 
would  be  here  in  an  hour  and  put  matters  right,  so  for  her 
sake  it  would  be  best  and  easiest  to  say  nothing.  I  simply 
made  up  my  mind  that  the  varlet  on  my  right,  whose  dirty 
claws  and  beery  breath  were  sickening  me,  should  have  the 
direst  of  drubbings  before  the  day  was  out. 

Mine  host  bustled  off  for  the  Mayor,  and,  the  news  having 
gone  around,  the  yard  was  filled  with  people  watching  the 
fun  and  making  a  mocking-stock  of  me.  The  Colonel  saw 
Sultan  off  to  be  groomed  and  baited,  and  then,  without  so 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  103 

much  as  a  look  at  me,  went  into  the  inn  and  sat  down  to  his 
interrupted  meal.  I  could  see  him  plainly  through  the 
window,  and  hugely  admired  his  coolness.  The  maids 
clustered  around  to  have  a  peep  at  me.  Such  as  were  old 
and  ugly  declared  off-hand  that  I  was  indisputably  ripe  for 
the  gallows,  but  a  younger  one  with  saucy  eyes  and  cherry- 
red  cheeks  blew  a  kiss,  and  called  out  to  beery  breath  to  deal 
gentlier  with  me.  He  moved  a  little  in  turning  to  grin  at 
her,  and  I  shot  my  knee  into  his  wind  and  doubled  him  up 
on  the  ground.  A  stouter  lad  took  his  place,  but  his  breath 
was  sweet  and  I  gained  much  in  comfort  by  the  change. 

The  situation  had  the  saving  grace  of  humour.  For 
twenty-four  hours  I  had  been  on  the  stretch  to  save  Colonel 
Waynflete  from  his  enemies.  To  do  it  I  had  left  mother  and 
sister,  and  home  and  lands.  To  do  it  I  had  come  out  openly 
on  the  side  of  rebellion  and  treason.  The  sword  had  been 
at  my  breast,  and  the  wind  of  a  bullet  had  stirred  the  hair 
of  my  head.  I  might  have  spared  my  pains.  All  this 
pother  of  mine  was  over  the  man  sitting  yonder,  heartily 
enjoying  his  dinner.  All  my  heroics  had  ended  in  my  being 
arrested  as  a  horse-thief. 

I  closed  my  eyes.  Picture  after  picture  came  before  me 
of  Margaret  in  her  changing  moods  and  her  unchanging 
beauty.  Gad  !  How  cheaply  I  had  bought  this  gallery  of 
precious  memories  ! 

A  throng  of  lads  crowding  noisily  under  the  archway 
heralded  the  approach  of  the  dignitaries.  First  came  the 
town  beadle,  a  pompous  little  fellow  who  wore  a  laced  brown 
greatcoat  many  sizes  too  large  for  him,  and  carried  a  cudgel 
of  office  thick  as  his  own  arm,  and  surmounted  by  a  brass 
crown  the  size  of  a  baby's  head.  His  office  enabled  him 
to  be  brave  on  the  cheap,  so  by  dint  of  digging  his  weapon 
into  the  ribs  of  all  and  sundry,  they  being,  as  he  expressed 
it,  too  thick  on  the  clod,  he  cleared  a  path  for  the  grocer- 
mayor,  who  had  gotten  himself  again  into  his  scarlet  gown. 
His  worship  was  gawky,  flustered,  and  uncertain,  and  listened 
like  a  scared  rabbit  to  mine  host,  a  man  of  much  talk,  who 
explained  proudly  what  was  to  be  done. 

"  This  is  'im,  y'r  worship,"  he  said.  "  A  dirty  'oss-thief 
as  badly  wants  'anging.  Copped  in  the  act,  y'r  worship,  of 


104  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

riding  into  this  'ere  yard  o'  mine,  as  big  as  bull-beef,  sitting 
on  the  very  'oss  'e'd  stolen  from  his  lordship  'ere." 

His  lordship  was  the  Colonel,  who  had  leisurely  left  his 
meal  again  to  settle  my  hash.  I  can  see  him  now  as  he  stood 
on  the  step  of  the  inn-door,  carefully  flicking  a  stray  crumb 
or  two  from  his  waistcoat,  and  taking  the  measure  of  the 
man  he  had  to  bamboozle,  with  clear,  amused,  grey  eyes. 

"  The  Mayor  of  the  town,  I  think,"  he  said  softly. 

"  Yes,  your  honour,"  said  the  good  man  surreptitiously 
wiping  something,  probably  sugar,  off  his  hands  on  the 
lining  of  his  gown. 

"  And  his  beadle,  your  lordship,"  added  the  host,  and  the 
under-strapper  inside  the  greatcoat  saluted  the  Colonel  with 
a  flourish  of  his  tipstaff. 

"  I  am  Colonel  Waynflete,"  he  answered  in  level  measured 
tones,  "  riding  on  important  business  of  His  Majesty's,  and  my 
horse  was  stolen  at  an  inn,  some  miles  back,  beyond  Stafford. 
But  for  the  kindness  of  my  Lord  Brocton  in  providing  me 
with  another,  His  Gracious  Majesty's  affairs  would  have 
been  badly  disarranged.  This  fellow  came  riding  in  on  my 
horse,  Sultan,  a  few  minutes  ago  and  I  ordered  his  arrest. 
He  is  now  in  your  worship's  hands.  I  leave  him  there  with 
confidence,  merely  remarking,  on  the  warrant  of  many 
years'  observation  in  such  matters,  that  he  will  require  a 
stout  rope." 

He  nodded  to  his  dithering  worship,  and  marched  back 
slowly  and  calmly  to  his  dinner. 

"  This  beats  cock-fighting,"  said  mine  host  admiringly. 
He  spread  himself,  happy  and  conspicuous  as  a  torn-tit  on  a 
round  of  beef,  and  the  crowd,  pleasantly  anticipating  mugs  of 
beer  later  on,  urged  the  Mayor  to  be  up  and  doing. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  ?  "  said  his  grocer- 
ship  to  me,  with  a  dim  and  belated  idea,  perhaps,  that  I 
might  be  interested  in  the  proceedings. 

"  The  beadle's  coat  is  much  too  large  for  him,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  replied  hurriedly.  "  Samson  Salt  was  a 
big  man  and  had  only  had  the  coat  three  years  when  he 
died,  and  we  couldn't  afford  a  new  one  for  Timothy.  Dear 
me,  but  this  isn't  a  council  meeting,  and  what's  the  beadle's 
coat  got  to  do  with  horse-stealing  ?  " 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  105 

"  As  much  as  I  have,"  I  replied  gravely. 

"  Yow've  'ad  enough,  my  lad,"  said  the  host,  "  to  last 
y'r  the  rest  of  y'r  life.  The  next  'oss  you  rides  '11  be  foaled 
of  an  acorn.  Let  Timothy  put  him  in  clink,  Master  Mayor, 
and  come  and  have  a  noggin  of  the  real  thing.  Gom,  I'm 
that  dry  my  belly'll  be  thinking  my  throat's  cut." 

"  Arrest  this  man,  Timothy  Tomkins,  and  put  him  in  jail 
till  I  can  take  due  order  for  his  trial." 

Timothy  turned  up  the  sleeves  of  his  coat,  and  arrested 
me  by  placing  his  hand  on  my  arm,  and  flourishing  the  brass 
crown  in  my  face. 

"  Don't  hurt  me,  Timothy,"  I  said.  "  I'll  come  like  a 
lamb,  and  I'll  go  slow  lest  you  should  tumble  over  the  tail 
of  your  coat." 

"  If  you  say  another  word  about  the  blasted  coat  I'll  split 
your  head  open,"  was  his  angry  reply.  It  was  evidently  a 
sore  topic  with  him  and  a  familiar  one  with  his  frugal  towns- 
men, for  some  man  in  the  crowd  cried  out,  "  'Tinna  big  enough 
for  the  missis,  be  it,  Timothy  ?  "  And  while  the  peppery 
little  beadle's  eyes  were  searching  the  japer  out,  another 
added,  "  More's  the  pity,  for  'er's  a  bit  of  a  light-skirt." 
At  this  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  so  I  saved  the  frenzied 
officer  further  trouble  by  saying,  "  Come  along,  Timothy. 
Let's  go  to  jail."  - 

On  the  Mayor's  orders,  mine  host  despoiled  me  of  the 
sergeant's  tuck,  and  Timothy  marched  me  off  to  the  jail, 
the  rabble  following,  as  full  of  chatter  as  a  nest  of  magpies. 
The  jail  was  a  small  stone  building,  standing,  like  the  town 
hall,  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  Arrived  there,  Timothy 
thrust  me  into  an  ill-lit  dirty  hole  below  the  level  of  the 
street,  locked  the  door  behind  me,  and  left  me  to  my  reflec- 
tions. 

The  only  furniture  of  the  den  was  a  rude  bench.  A  nap 
would  do  me  good,  so,  after  a  good  pull  at  Kate's  precious 
cordial,  T  curled  up  on  the  bench  and  in  a  few  minutes  was 
sound  asleep.  And  in  my  sleep  I  dreamed  that  two  blue 
stars  were  twinkling  at  me  through  a  golden  cloud. 


io6  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

CHAPTER  XII 
THE  GUEST-ROOM  OF  THE  "  RISING  SUN  " 

A  WISP  of  cloud,  a  long  trail  of  shimmering  gold,  broke 
loose,  swept  with  the  touch  of  softest  silk  across  my 
cheek,  and  half  awakened  me.  I  was  lazily  and 
sleepily  regretting  that  such  caresses  only  came  in  dreams, 
when  I  was  brought  sharply  back  to  full  life  by  a  ripple  of 
hearty  laughter. 

"  Gloat  on  !  "  said  I  complacently. 

"  I  knew  you'd  slip  some  time  or  other.  Gloat !  Of 
course  I  shall  gloat."  And  she  laughed  again.  I  should 
have  borne  it  easily  enough,  coming  from  her,  under  any 
circumstances,  but  there  was  one  circumstance  which  made 
it  a  pure  joy.  The  white  hands  were  busy  with  her  unruly 
yellow  hair,  and  I  was  so  far  gone  foolward  that  I  was  in 
some  sort  hopeful  that  they  were  imprisoning  the  wisp  of 
golden  cloud  that  had  awakened  me.  I  bitterly  regretted 
that  I  was  not  as  nimble  at  waking  as  Jack.  He  would  be 
sleeping  like  a  leg  of  mutton  one  second  and,  at  the  touch 
of  a  feather,  as  wide  awake  as  a  weasel  the  next.  I  took 
time — it  was  the  Latin  rubbish  cumbering  my  brain,  he 
used  to  say — or  I  might  have  made  sure. 

Mistress  Margaret  was  perched  on  the  edge  of  my  bench. 
She  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  move,  and  I  could  not  get  up  till 
she  did,  so  I  lay  still,  cradling  my  head  in  my  hands,  and 
looked  contentedly  at  her.  It  was  now  so  gloomy  that  I 
had  evidently  been  asleep  some  time. 

"  I  knew  you'd  slip,"  she  repeated  with  great  zest.  "  All 
men  do.  And  I'm  glad  you  slipped,  for  it  proved  you  human. 
I  was  getting  quite  overawed  by  the  terrible  precision  with 
which  you  did  exactly  the  right  thing  at  exactly  the  right 
time.  It  made  me  feel  so  very  small  and  inferior,  and  no 
woman  likes  that.  It's  not  nice." 

"  Or  natural,"  said  I. 

"  I  see  you're  unmistakably  awake,  sir  !  "  was  the  tart 
reply.  She  rose  and  took  short  turns  up  and  down  the  cell. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  107 

and  went  on  :  "  But  why  slip  into  jail,  Master  Wheatman  ? 
Why  did  you  not  tell  father  who  you  were  and  what  you 
had  done  for  me  ?  " 

"  And  so  prove  at  once  to  the  authorities  in  the  town  that 
he  was  not  what  he  pretended  to  be  !  " 

"  Ho  !  "  she  said,  and  stopped  short. 

"  Our  idea  was,  I  think,  to  free  the  Colonel,  if  we 
could." 

"  Yes."     She  was  not  gloating  now,  but  wondering. 

"  Well,  madam,  I  found  him  free,  and  the  only  advantage 
I  can  see  in  your  plan  is,  that  I  should  have  had  him  as  a 
companion  in  jail.  Whereas  now  I've  mended  my  night's 
sleep  with  a  refreshing  nap,  and  Master  Freake  has  so  lucidly 
explained  things  to  the  Mayor  that  Timothy  of  the  long  coat 
is  kicking  his  heels  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  and  wondering 
how  much  longer  you're  going  to  be.  Shall  we  once  more 
breathe  the  upper  air,  as  Virgil  would  put  it  ?  This  hole  is 
as  bad  as  a  corner  in  his  under- world." 

"  And  I  laughed  at  you  for  slipping,  Master  Wheatman ! 
I  shall  never  dare  to  look  you  in  the  face  again." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,  madam,"  said  I  airily,  leading  the 
way  to  the  steps.  "  I've  heard  Copper  Nob  say  the  same 
thing  scores  of  times." 

"  Who's  Copper  Nob  ?  " 

The  question  came  like  the  crack  of  a  whip,  and  I  was 
glad  the  familiar  phrase  had  slipped  out  unawares  and 
diverted  her. 

"  Our  Kate,"  I  explained. 

"  Oh  indeed,  sir  !  A  more  beautiful  head  of  hair  no 
woman  in  this  land  possesses,  and  you  glibly  call  her  '  Copper 
Nob.'  Doubtless  you  have  selected  some  nice  expressive 
name  for  me  !  " 

"  I  shouldn't  dare  !  "  I  protested  hotly. 

"  Why  not  ?     You  do  it  for  her,  brazenly  and  wantonly." 

"  Yes,  madam,  but  she's  my  sister." 

"  How  does  that  assure  me  ?  " 

"  A  man's  sister  isn't  a  woman,"  said  I,  and  went  ahead 
and  pushed  open  the  door.  There,  sure  enough,  was  Timothy, 
looking  very  uncertain  and  rueful.  The  little  man's  com- 
plaisance had  given  me  the  greatest  wonder  of  my  life — • 


io8  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Margaret's  silent  watching  over  me  as  I  lay  asleep,  and  I 
gave  him  a  guinea  with  much  gladness. 

"  The  coat's  too  big  for  you,  Timothy,  and  it's  no  good 
denying  it.  I'll  speak  to  his  worship  about  a  new  one  of 
the  right  length." 

"  Thank  yer,  sir,"  he  said,  grinning  oafishly  as  he  pouched 
the  guinea.  "  I'd  rather  have  a  new  coat  than  a  new  missus, 
and,  swelp  me  bob,  I  want  both." 

Margaret  joined  me,  and  we  at  once  made  our  way  to 
the  "Rising  Sun."  Work  for  the  day  was  over,  and  the  street 
was  now  getting  thronged  and  noisy.  Many  curious  looks 
were  bent  on  us,  but  no  one  dared  to  interfere  with  a  man 
of  my  evil  reputation,  a  horse-thief  being  the  last  thing  in 
desperadoes.  We  had  only  a  few  yards  to  go,  but  my  mistress 
apprised  me  in  sweet  whisperings  that  Master  Freake's 
explanation  was  that  Sultan  had  been  innocently  obtained 
from  the  real  thief,  that  I  was  his  servant,  and,  not  knowing 
of  the  horse  deal,  had  loyally  kept  silent  lest  I  should  make 
mischief — a  happy  and  reasonably  truthful  rendering  of  the 
real  facts. 

"  After  his  private  talk  with  Master  Mayor,"  she  added, 
"  that  worthy  man's  knees  were  as  hard  worked  as  the  hinges 
of  an  ale-house  door." 

"  The  poor  cringeling  is  but  a  grocer,"  said  I,  as  we  turned 
in  under  the  archway  of  the  "  Rising  Sun."  The  host  saw  us 
through  the  kitchen  window,  and  ran  out  to  usher  us  in  with 
the  assurance  of  a  brass  weathercock. 

"  Sommat  like  a  jail  delivery,  eh,  y'r  'onour  ?  Gom,  if  I 
wudna  pinch  fifty  'osses  to  be  fetched  out  o'  clink  by  such  a 
bonny  lady,  begging  your  ladyship's  pardon." 

"  She  shall  fetch  you  out,"  said  I  sourly,  "  when  you're 
jailed  for  not  stealing." 

"  His  honour's  commands  are  a  law  unto  his  handmaiden," 
said  Margaret  demurely  and  icily,  addressing  him,  but  aiming 
point-blank  at  me.  Her  shot  blew  me  clean  out  of  the  water, 
and  I  stood  there  guggling  like  a  born  idiot.  "  Curse  you, 
will  you  never  get  out  of  your  yokel's  ways  ?  "  said  I  to 
myself.  It  was  as  if  I  had  said  to  the  sergeant,  speaking  of 
Jane,  "She  shall  draw  you  a  mug  of  beer."  I  was  clean 
nonplussed,  and  felt  as  uncomfortable  as  a  boiling  crawfish. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  109 

but  fortunately  rattle-pate  came  to  my  aid  and  drowned  my 
confusion  in  a  flood  of  words. 

"  And  all  he  said,  y'r  ladyship,  was  that  Timothy's  coat 
was  too  big  for  'im.  Gom,  it  beat  cock-fighting,  it  did. 
Swelp  me  bob  it  did.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  staggered  as  the 
Mayor,  but  he's  got  over  it  fine,  and  gone  'ome,  good  man, 
with  a  crick  in  his  back  and  near  on  a  pint  of  my  best  brandy 
in  his  belly.  When  these  'ere  wild  Highland  rappers  and 
renders  come,  he's  just  primed  up  to  make  'em  a  grand  speech 
at  bridge  yonder,  and  if  that  dunna  frighten  'em  off,  nuthin' 
wull,  and  my  cellars  will  be  as  ill  filled  with  beer  as  Timothy's 
coat  is  with  brawn.  I'm  getting  the  best  supper  on  the 
Chester  road  for  yer,  y'r  honour,  and  that'll  make  you  feel 
as  bold  as  sixpence  among  sixpenn'orth  o'  coppers.  But  come 
along,  y'r  ladyship.  The  Colonel's  upstairs.  Follow  me  !  " 

Words  ran  out  of  him  like  ale  out  of  a  stunned  barrel. 
He  clacked  on  incessantly  on  the  way  upstairs,  and  clacked 
as  boldly  as  ever  as  he  ushered  us  into  the  room,  where  the 
Colonel  was  awaiting  us  alone. 

"  'Ere  'e  is,  y'r  lordship,"  he  said  gustily.  "  'Ere's  the 
nobby  gentleman  as  didna  steal  yer  'oss.  But  yow'd  best 
keep  yer  eye  on  'im,  on  my  say  so.  He'll  pinch  sommat  o' 
yow'n  yet  afore  'e's  done." 

The  Colonel,  who  was  toasting  his  toes  at  a  roaring  fire, 
rose  as  I  followed  Margaret  towards  him.  He  made  me  a 
precise  and  formal  bow,  which  I  imitated  farmer  fashion. 
"  This  is  Master  Oliver  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,  father," 
said  Margaret,  in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  host,  lingering,  hand 
on  door-knob,  nearly  a  dozen  paces  behind  us,  could  not 
have  heard  her. 

"  Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  he  said,  re- 
peating his  bow. 

"  The  honour  is  mine,  sir,"  I  replied,  repeating  mine,  and 
wondering  the  while  if  I  ever  should  learn  to  bend  like  a 
willow  instead  of  a  jointed  doll. 

"  Nay,  I  protest,  sir."  This  suavely  to  me  ;  then,  stepping 
sharply  towards  the  host,  he  stormed,  "  Damn  ye,  man,  get 
on  the  landlord's  side  of  the  door,  or  I'll  rout  it  down  around 
your  lazy  ears.  Slids  !  I've  shot  an  innkepeer  for  less  in 
the  Rhineland." 


no  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Them  'ere  furriners "  began  the  host,  but  the 

Colonel  swamped  him  with  something  of  which  I  could  make 
out  nothing  except  that  it  was  a  fairly  successful  attempt  to 
talk  and  sneeze  at  the  same  time.  It  finished  off  the  host, 
who  retired,  beaten  with  his  own  weapon.  The  victor, 
waiting  till  the  door  was  closed,  tiptoed  up  to  it  and  listened 
carefully. 

"  A  rather  interesting  feature  about  dad,"  whispered 
Margaret  with  mischief  in  her  eyes,  "  is  that  when  he's  angry 
he  curses  in  French,  and  when  he's  mad  he  execrates  in 
German." 

"  Neatly  rounding  off  his  daughter's  accomplishments," 
said  I. 

"  And  how,  sir  ?  " 

"  Who  gibes  in  English  and  loves  in  Italian." 

She  stabbed  me  with  her  eyes,  and  said,  "  Your  services 
give  you  no  privileges,  sir." 

"  I  know  that,  madam,  but  my  yokelship  does." 

I  spoke  lightly,  keeping  the  bitterness  of  my  heart  out 
of  my  voice,  though  it  had  surged  up  into  my  speech.  I  may 
have  been  mistaken,  misled  by  the  nickering  fire-light,  but 
the  anger  seemed  to  melt  out  of  her  eyes. 

The  return  of  the  Colonel  ended  our  cut-and-thrust. 

"  Soldiering,"  he  said,  "  is  nine-tenths  caution  and  one- 
tenth  devilment.  Yon  glavering  idiot  has  long  ears  to 
match  his  long  tongue.  And  now,  sir,  let  me  greet  you  as  I 
should." 

He  seized  my  hand,  shook  it  warmly,  and  continued, 
"  A  father's  thanks,  Master  Wheatman,  for  your  kindness 
to  my  Margaret.  Anon  she  shall  tell  me  the  whole  story, 
but  I  know  already  that  you  are  a  gallant  gentleman  whom 
I  shall  have  the  honour  of  turning  into  a  fine  soldier,  and 
neither  angel,  man,  nor  devil  could  make  you  fairer  requital." 

Praise  and  promise  were  far  beyond  any  desert  or  hope  of 
mine,  but  I  said  boldly,  "  I  am  no  gentleman,  but  just  a 
plain,  few-acred  yeoman,  who  has  tried  to  serve  your 
daughter " 

"  Tried  ?  "  he  snorted.  "  Tried,  indeed !  I've  been  soldier- 
ing man  and  boy  these  forty  odd  years,  and,  slids,  I've 
never  known  better  work."  He  ran  me  up  and  down  with 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  in 

his  eyes  and,  turning  to  Margaret,  continued,  "  By  the 
beard  of  the  prophet,  Madge,  Master  Oliver  Wheatman  of 
the  Hanyards  is  a  vast  improvement  on  the  Baron." 

Margaret  blushed  daintily  and  hastily  covered  his  mouth 
with  her  fingers. 

"  You  dare,  dad,  and  I  won't  kiss  you  good  night." 

"  Damme,"  he  said,  freeing  himself  and  grinning  at  me 
with  delight.  "  This  is  rank  mutiny.  Prithee  note,  Master 
Wheatman,  the  prepare-to-receive-cavalry  look  in  her  eye  ! 
The  last  time  I  lost  her  was  at  Hanover,  and  she  rejoined 
me,  if  you  please,  at  Dresden." 

"  Magdeburg,  you  libellous  old  father,"  said  Margaret, 
pouting. 

"So  it  was,"  he  said  heartily,  conceding  the  point. 
"  Escorted  by,  or  escorting,  I  was  never  clear  which,  a  fat 
German  baron  nearly  five  feet  high,  who  begged  me  to 
horsewhip  her  into  marrying  him." 

"  You  shot  him  ?  "  said  I,  so  very  energetically  that 
Margaret's  pout  turned  into  a  smile. 

"  Dear  me,  no,"  he  said,  pretending  to  yawn.  "  I  left 
him  to  Madge,  poor  fellow  !  I  hope  you've  given  her  every 
satisfaction,  Master  Wheatman." 

"  That  he  hasn't,"  said  Margaret  briskly.  "  He's  spent 
far  too  much  time  putting  me  in  what  he  considers  my 
proper  place." 

"  My  friend,"  said  he  to  me  gravely,  "  you're  in  for  a 
dog's  life." 

"  You're  right  about  the  life,  dad,  but  wrong  about  the 
dog.  Good-bye  till  supper,  you  nasty  ripper-up  of  your 
daughter's  character !  " 

So  saying,  she  kissed  him  on  each  cheek,  smiled  at  me, 
and  left  us. 

"  I'd  like  to  sluice  the  jail  feeling  off  myself,"  said  I  to 
the  Colonel. 

"  Right,"  he  replied,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  You've 
just  half  an  hour.  I  find  England  irksomely  restful  and 
law-abiding  after  the  Continent,  but  I'm  glad  of  it  for  once. 
I  should  be  damnably  vexed  if  I'd  hanged  you,  and  Madge 
wouldn't  have  liked  it  either." 

He  had  a  grave  voice,  like  a  judge's,  and  a  quick,  pert 


H2  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

eye,  like  a  jackdaw's.  Outwardly  he  was  as  unlike  Margaret 
as  the  haft  of  a  pike  is  unlike  a  lily,  but  I  already  saw  her 
spirit  in  him. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  when  I  am  fortified  by  a  good  supper,  I 
will  venture  to  indicate  my  preferences  on  the  subject." 

He  took  out  his  snuff-box,  tapped  it  carefully,  opened  it, 
and  held  it  out  to  me. 

"  You  have  begun  well,  sir.  I  hear  you  are  a  great 
scholar,  Latin  and  all  that,  quite  pat.  Damme,  sir,  those 
ancients  understood  things.  They  knew  how  to  honour  the 
gods,  for  they  made  soldiers  of  'em  and  set  'em  fighting  in 
the  clouds.  There's  divinity  for  you !  You've  got  twenty- 
eight  minutes." 

I  laughed  and  left  him. 

The  room  in  which  my  introduction  to  the  Colonel  had 
taken  place  was  immediately  over  the  archway.  Its  window 
opened  on  to  a  balcony  which,  supported  on  thick  oak  balks, 
stood  over  the  causeway  of  the  street  ;  its  door  was  in  a 
passage  leading  from  one  wing  of  the  house  to  the  other,  and 
'  in  the  passage  were  three  leaded  lattice-windows  of  greenish 
glass,  plentifully  sprinkled  with  blobs  and  nodes,  giving  on 
the  long  inn-yard.  The  room  was  thus  admirably  situated 
for  people  in  our  precarious  position,  having  a  look-out  back 
and  front,  and  a  way  of  escape  right  and  left. 

The  cherry-cheeked  lass  who  had  thrown  me  the  kiss 
was  tripping  past  the  door  as  I  opened  it.  She  told  me  that 
she  had  been  attending  on  '  'er  ladyship,'  and  willingly 
led  me  to  a  bedroom  and  brought  me  thither  the  things 
I  needed  for  my  sluicing,  among  them  a  passable  razor 
and  a  huckaback  fit  to  fetch  the  hide  off  a  horse. 

"  Give  me  now  the  kiss  you  threw  me,"  said  I,  as  she 
was  turning  to  leave. 

"  Nay,  sir,"  she  said.  "  You're  not  in  trouble  now,  and 
dunna  need  it." 

"  Lassie,"  said  I,  "  that's  a  right  womanly  reply,  and 
here's  something  to  buy  a  ribbon  with  that  shall  be  worthy 
of  you."  And  I  gave  her  one  of  the  dead  Major's  guineas. 

"  Thank  yer,  sir,"  she  said.  "  And  besides  there's  no 
need  for  you  to  be  kissing  the  likes  of  me." 

"  You're  a  sweetly  pretty  lassie,"  said  I. 


'  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  113 

"  Y'  dunna  want  to  be  gawpin'  around  after  pennies 
when  there's  guineas  to  be  picked  up,"  she  replied,  with  a 
toss  of  her  head.  "  Struth,  I  wish  at  times  I  wasna  quite 
so  pretty.  There's  some  men,  bless  you,  I  know  one  myself, 
such  fools  that  they  think  a  pretty  wench  doesna  want 
kissin'.  But,  sartin  sure,  there's  never  been  the  like  of  'er 
ladyship  in  Newcastle  in  my  time.  I'll  'ave  a  ribbon  on 
Sunday  as  near  the  colour  and  shine  of  'er  ladyship's  hair 
as  money  can  buy,  and  Sail  '11  wish  'er'd  never  been  born. 
I'll  Sim  'er." 

With  this  terrible  threat  she  flounced  out  of  the  room, 
and  I  laughed  and  wondered  who  and  what  '  Sim  '  was. 
A  decent  fellow  and  a  good  tradesman,  I  hoped,  and  wished 
him  pluck  and  luck. 

While  I  was  tidying  myself  up,  my  mind  was  busy  with 
the  strange  tangle  things  were  got  into.  The  mysterious 
Master  Freake,  after  turning  the  Mayor  into  his  pliant  tool, 
had  apparently  disappeared.  The  Colonel  had  not  breathed 
a  word  of  explanation,  and  seemed  to  feel  so  secure  that 
he  was  dawdling  in  the  town  as  if  no  enemy  were  at  hand. 
Of  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  town  itself  I  knew  nothing. 
The  one  clear  thing  was  that  I  had  got  my  neck  right  into 
the  noose,  and  Brocton  could,  and  would,  pull  tight  at  the  first 
opportunity.  What  did  all  this  matter  ?  What  did  any 
untoward  event  or  result  matter  ?  I  was  going  to  be  a 
soldier,  and,  after  the  fashion  of  love-lorn  Cherry-Cheeks,  I 
said  to  myself,  "  I'll  Jack  him  !  "  I  was  going  to  be  near 
Margaret,  and,  so  rejoicing,  bethought  me  of  the  hapless 
Roman's  " Infelix* properas  ultima  nosse  mala."  And  what 
did  that  matter  either  ?  I  rubbed  myself  the  colour  of  a 
love-apple,  humming  the  while  old-time  ditties  long  since 
driven  out  of  my  head  by  the  Latin  rubbish.  Jack  was  right. 
Of  course  it  was  rubbish.  "  Latin  be  damned,"  said  I 
gleefully.  "  Nothing  counts  but  life  and  love." 

There  was  more  than  a  pinch  of  swagger  in  me  as  I 
made  my  way  back  to  the  passage  overlooking  the  yard. 
Arrived  there,  I  cautiously  opened  the  nearest  lattice  and 
peered  out.  The  inn-yard  was  dark  and  silent,  and  I  was 
on  the  point  of  closing  the  window  when  I  heard  the  clatter 
of  hoofs  on  the  stone-paving  under  the  archway.  A  moment 
8 


H4  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

later  a  man  on  foot  came  in  sight,  and  was  followed  into  the 
yard  by  two  men  on  horseback,  one  of  them  in  charge  of  a 
led  horse. 

At  once  all  was  bustle.  Ostlers  ran  up  with  lanterns,  and 
the  host  came  forward,  candle  in  hand  and  a  multitude  of 
words  on  his  tongue,  to  order  things  aright. 

The  man  afoot  was  Master  Freake,  and  it  was  clear  that 
the  riders  w<jre  men  of  his,  for  I  heard  him  a^k  them  if  they 
were  quite  clear  as  to  their  instructions,  and  both  answered 
respectfully  that  they  were.  I  could  see  they  wore  swords 
and  that  their  horses  were  splendid,  powerful  animals,  not 
much  inferior  to  Sultan  himself.  Who  and  what  was  this 
man — "  plain  John  Freake,"  as  he  called  himself, — who 
carried  large  sums  of  money,  domineered  over  self-important 
burgesses  and  mayors,  who  was  served  by  such  well- 
appointed  horsemen,  whom  Master  Dobson,  a  parliament 
man,  feared,  and  my  Lord  Brocton  had  thought  it  worth 
while  to  attempt  to  put  out  of  the  way  ? 

It  was  a  riddle  I  could  not  read,  but  as  I  stood  there, 
peering  round  the  half-open  lattice  at  the  scene  below, 
I  was  happier  than  ever  I  had  been  in  my  life.  "  Poor  old 
Jack,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  sweating  and  swearing  over  your 
riff-raff  dragooners,  and  here  am  I,  who  envied  you  yester- 
morn,  on  the  top  rung  of  life." 

"  We  shall  get  it  if  we're  late,"  said  Mistress  Margaret 
playfully  in  my  ear.  "  Not  because  dad  worries  whether  he 
eats  or  not,  but  because  he's  so  strong  on  mil-it-ary  dis-cip- 
line."  I  write  the  words  so,  as  a  poor,  paper  imitation  of 
the  mincing  gait  she  could  put  into  her  speech,  which  was 
ever  one  of  her  delightfulnesses.  "  You'd  have  been  the 
better,"  she  went  on,  "  for  a  bringing-up  on  a  troop-sergeant's 
switch.  See  what  it's  done  for  me  !  " 

So  she  challenged  me  to  admire  her,  and  indeed  I  think 
that  the  witch  was  verily  bent  on  casting  a  spell  over  me. 
No  words  can  paint  her  as  she  stood  in  the  dim-lit  passage, 
the  infinite  sum  of  womanhood,  peerless  in  every  grace  and 
gift ;  not  now  the  tense,  proud  Margaret  of  the  quick  rebuke 
and  the  shattering  sarcasm,  but  the  mirthful,  trustful,  grate- 
ful companion  of  our  boy-and-girl  escapade. 

"  I  think  you're  right,  madam,"  said  I.     "  Bloggs,  dear 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  115 

old  chap,  flogged  the  meaning  of  Virgil  into  me,  but  I  wish 
he  had  flogged  in  some  of  the  meaning  of  life  along  with  it. 
I  feel  as  helpless  as  Saul  would  have  felt  with  David's  sling 
and  stones." 

"  Are  you  as  one  fighting  a  Goliath  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  said  I,  not  able  now  to  speak  lightly,  and  not 
daring  to  look  at  her.  Could  any  enterprise  be  more  hopeless 
than  the  one  my  heart,  against  all  the  strivings  of  sense  and 
reason,  was  beginning  to  set  me  ?  Through  the  open  lattice 
I  watched  the  flicker  of  lanterns  in  the  yard,  where  the 
horses  were  being  upped  and  whoaed  stablewards. 

"  You  will  favour  me,  sir,  with  your  escort  into  supper," 
said  Margaret. 

This  brought  me  to  myself  with  a  jerk.  I  closed  the 
lattice,  offered  her  my  arm,  and  we  walked  towards  the 
guest-room  where  the  Colonel  was  awaiting  us. 

"  I  think  you'd  better  revise  your  knowledge  of  the 
Scriptures,  Master  Oliver,"  said  she  very  quietly  as  I  led  her 
into  the  room. 

"  In  what  respect,  Mistress  Margaret  ?  " 

"  You  seem  to  have  an  imperfect  recollection  of  the  way 
in  which  Goliath  met  his  death.  It's  idle  to  say  we're  late, 
dad,  when  supper's  not  yet  served." 

He  exploded  into  words  I  did  not  understand.  "  It's 
all  right,  only  French,"  whispered  Margaret  mischievously. 
"  It  means  '  name  of  a  dog.'  I  could  swear  better  myself." 

"That's  right,"  stormed  the  Colonel.  "As  fast  as  I 
curse  soldiering  into  one  ear  of  him,  you  coax  it  out  of  the 
other !  I'll  be  thankful  when  you're  under  Mother  Patterson's 
wing  in  Chester." 

The  coming  of  Cherry-Cheeks  and  one  of  the  hard-favoured 
maids  with  the  supper,  followed  by  our  host  with  the  wine, 
followed  in  turn  by  Master  Freake,  put  an  end  to  my  first 
lesson  in  soldiering  and  the  imprecatory  wealth  of  continental 
languages,  and  straightway  the  host  slopped  over  with 
apologies  for  the  delay  in  serving  the  supper. 

"  Things  are  a  bit  upset  in  the  town,  y'  mun  know,"  he 
said,  "  and  every  wench  in  the  '  Rising  Sun  '  'as  been  a  devil 
unknobbed  all  day.  This  red-faced  hussy  here,  when  'er 
was  wanted  to  set  the  table,  was  off  to  see  if  that  spindle- 


n6  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

shanked  Sim  across  at  the  Mayor's  was  safe  and  sound. 
And  besides,  my  lady  and  y'r  'onours,  the  famous  steak-and- 
kidney  puddin'  o'  the  '  Rising  Sun  '  must  be  boiled  to  a  bubble 
or  it's  dummacked.  If  one  got  spiled,  the  news  'ud  run 
down  to  Chester  and  up  to  London  in  no  time,  and  the  '  Red 
Lion '  'ud  get  all  my  customers.  His  Grace  of  Kingston 
put  up  at  the  '  Red  Lion  '  in  all  innocence  until  his  worship, 
for  old  friendship's  sake  and  a  bottle  of  brandy,  'ticed  'im 
over  'ere  to  one  of  my  puddin's.  'E  started  an  inch  off  the 
table  and  ate  till  'e  touched,  as  we  say  in  Staffordsheer,  and 
then  sent  for  'is  baggage,  and  'as  lain  'ere  ever  since  in  the 
great  bedchamber  over  y'r  yeds,  an'  I'm  thinking  to  call 
it  the  Duke's  Room  an'  charge  sixpence  extra  for  it.  It's 
worth  another  sixpence  to  sleep  in  the  same  bed  as  a  duke's 
slep*  in.  If  it  ain't,  by  gom,  I'd  like  to  know  what  he  is  for. 
Damn  if  y'r  can  tell  by  lukkin'  at  'im." 

What  I  have  for  convenience'  sake  set  down  here  as  a 
continuous  speech  addressed  to  us  all,  was  really  a  series  of 
remarks  addressed  to  whichever  of  us  appeared  for  the 
moment  to  be  listening,  and  broken  by  commands,  scoldings, 
and  threats  addressed  to  the  women.  The  tail-end  of  his 
remarks  made  me  cock  my  ear,  for  it  indicated  that  we  were 
at  the  centre  of  the  danger  zone. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  interposed  Master  Freake  at  last,  "  I'd 
coax  Prince  Charlie  to  sleep  in  it  and  then  charge  a  shilling 
extra.  A  prince,  and  my  dislike  of  his  ways  doesn't  unprince 
him,  is  surely  worth  twice  as  much  as  a  duke." 

"  Swelp  me  bob,"  cried  the  delighted  host,  slapping  his 
thigh  in  high  glee,  "  that  'ud  be  better  than  a  murder.  It's 
wunnerful  how  a  murder  'elps  a  'ouse.  Tek  the  '  Quiet 
Woman '  o'  Madeley.  There  was  a  murder  there,  and  a 
damn  poor  thing  of  a  murder  it  was,  nothing  but  a  fudge- 
mounter  cuttin'  a  besom-filer's  throat ;  poor  wench,  'er  lived 
up  on  th'  Higherland  yonder,  and  I'll  bet  it  was  wuth 
two-and-twenty  barrel  of  beer  to  owd  Wat.  A  murder's 
clean  providential  to  a  pub " 

"  Damn,  get  out,"  vociferated  the  Colonel,  "  or  I'll 
provide  the  murder  and  you  the  corpse." 

The  meal,  be  it  said,  was  thoroughly  good  in  every  way. 
I'm  not  the  man  to  despise  my  belly,  and  I  don't  hold  with 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  117 

those  that  do.  There  are  better  things  in  life  than  steak- 
and-kidney  puddings,  but  my  experience  is  they  want  a  lot 
of  finding.  The  Colonel  would  not  hear  of  £.ny  talk  about 
our  affairs  till  supper  was  over.  "  I  dare  say  you're  all  agog 
to  know  what  I've  been  doing  and  what  we  are  going  to  do," 
he  said  to  me.  "  That's  because  you're  a  youngster  at 
everything  and  a  mere  infant-in-arms  at  soldiering.  When 
you've  had  a  month's  campaigning  you'll  know  that  the 
only  things  really  worth  bothering  about  are  supper  and  bed." 

To  my  great  content  he  immediately  fell  head  over  heels 
into  argument  with  Master  Freake,  something  about  bounties 
on  herring  busses,  if  I  remember  aright,  and  Margaret  and  I 
were  left  to  each  other,  and  a  rare  treat  I  had  in  hearing  her 
lively  talk  and  watching  her  glowing  beauty. 

At  last,  with  almost  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and  then  with  a 
mischief-glint  in  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  The  pudding  has  been 
very  good,  but  I  prefer  ham  and  eggs,  provided  that  the  right 
person  cooks  them." 

"  I  should  agree,"  I  replied,  "  with  one  other  proviso." 

"  To  wit,"  said  she,  with  a  glass  of  wine  half-way  to  her 
lips. 

"  That  the  right  person  saves  them  from  frizzling  to  a 
cinder." 

She  sipped  her  wine  steadily,  and  then,  leaning  forward 
till  the  radiance  of  her  yellow  hair  made  me  quiver,  she 
whispered  calmly,  "  Oliver,  you're  a  brute." 

"  Nay,  madam,"  said  I,  "  only  a  yokel." 

She  looked  at  me  again  as  she  had  looked  at  me  when  I 
had  kissed  her  hand  beneath  the  hawthorns. 

"  Hello,  there,"  broke  in  the  Colonel,  addressing  himself 
to  me,  "  who  was  right  about  the  dog's  life  ?  " 

"  I  was,  of  course,"  said  Margaret  promptly. 

The  host  was  rung  for,  his  supper  praised  to  his  heart's 
content,  the  table  cleared,  and  a  dish  of  tea  ordered  for 
Margaret.  Bethinking  me  of  the  sergeant's  tuck,  which 
might  be  useful,  I  asked  the  host  to  bring  it  up,  and  he  did  so. 

When  we  were  again  left  to  ourselves,  the  Colonel  took 
the  sword,  and  examined  it  with  his  skilful  eyes  and  practised 
hands. 

"  Somewhat  heavy,"  said  he,  "  but  well  balanced  and 


u8  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

well  made,  and  of  the  truest  steel.  Are  you  a  swordsman, 
Master  Wheatman  ?  " 

"  I  never  had  one  in  my  hand  in  my  life  till  to-day," 
was  my  reply. 

"  Gird  him  for  the  wars,  Margaret,"  said  he.  "  So 
much  of  the  ancient  rules  and  customs  of  chivalry  as  can  be 
observed  in  these  mechanic  days  shall,  by  us  at  any  rate,  be 
observed.  In  strict  law  you  ought  to  have  spent  a  night  in 
prayer  and  fasting,  but  your  loyal  service  to  Margaret  is  a 
good  equivalent.  To  labour  is  to  pray,  say  the  parsons,  and, 
my  lad,  always  remember  in  your  soldiering  that  a  so- 
minded  man  can  offer  up  a  powerful  prayer  between  pull  of 
trigger  and  flash  of  priming.  Kneel,  Oliver,  and  in  God's 
sight  you  shall  be  more  truly  knighted  than  any  capering 
and  chattering  of  German  Geordie's  can  contrive." 

And  so,  in  the  guest-room  of  the  "  Rising  Sun,"  I  knelt 
to  my  sweet  mistress,  and,  before  God  and  in  the  presence 
of  Christopher  Waynflete,  Colonel  of  Horse  in  the  service 
of  the  King  of  Sweden,  and  John  Freake,  citizen  of  London, 
Margaret,  gravely  and  serenely  beautiful,  touched  my 
shoulder  with  the  sword  and  then  girded  it  upon  me. 

"  Sirs,"  she  said,  addressing  her  father  and  Master 
Freake,  "  the  accolade  has  never  been  given  to  a  worthier." 
Then,  bending  swiftly  as  a  swallow  dips  in  its  flight  over  the 
meadows,  she  whispered  emphatically  in  my  ears,  "  Yokel 
it  no  more  1  " 


CHAPTER   XIII 
PHARAOH'S  KINE 

"     A     ND  now  to  business,"  said  Master  Freake. 

/-\  "  To  pleasure,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Business 
-*•  ^-  is  over." 

He  was  leisurely  filling  his  pipe,  an  example  which 
Margaret,  with  a  smile  and  a  nod,  gave  me  permission  to 
follow. 

"  Tell  us  how  you  escaped,"  said  Margaret.     "  Master 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  119 

Wheatman  cannot  too  soon  begin  to  learn  the  tricks  of  the 
trade.  Sorry,  dad,"  bending  to  kiss  his  hand ;  "  you  needn't 
look  at  me  in  German.  I  mean  rudiments  of  the  profession." 

"  A  woman  who  calls  soldiering  a  trade  ought  to  be 
forcibly  married  to  a  parson,"  said  the  Colonel  passionately. 

"  There'll  be  a  reasonable  quantity  of  parsons  to  choose 
from  at  Chester,"  she  retorted,  laughing  up  in  his  face. 

"  Chester  ?  Why  Chester  ?  "  demanded  Master  Freake, 
suddenly  tense  and  vigilant. 

"  I  need  name  no  name,  but  a  certain  dignitary's  lady 
there,  one  of  our  supporters,  undertook  to  take  her  in  charge 
while  this  affair  was  on,"  explained  the  Colonel. 

Master  Freake,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  disappointed  with 
the  explanation,  and,  knowing  that  what  Margaret  wanted 
was  to  have  the  rumour  of  her  father's  intended  treachery 
blown  to  pieces  by  his  own  account,  I  said,  "  There's  only 
one  parson  in  England  fit  to  look  at  Mistress  Margaret,  and 
he's  sixty  and  married.  Let  me  learn,  I  pray  you,  sir, 
the  art  of  slipping  out  of  the  hands  of  a  squad  of  dragoons 
on  a  road  crowded  with  soldiery." 

"  If  you  think  you  are  to  hear  a  tale  that  will  make  you 
grip  the  arms  of  your  chairs,  you're  in  for  a  sad  disappoint- 
ment. Yesterday  and  through  the  night,  they  stuck  to  me 
as  if  Geoi'die  had  offered  thirty  thousand  pounds  for  me,  dead 
or  alive,  but  this  morning  their  hold  on  me  slackened.  They 
might  have  intended  me  to  escape.  I  was  put  on  a  fresh 
horse,  about  the  best  they'd  got ;  the  dragoon  in  charge  of 
me  was  three  parts  drunk*  when  we  started ;  we  got  mixed 
up  in  a  crowd  of  foot  retreating  south,  and  separated  from 
our  main  body,  and  finding  myself  alone  on  the  road  with 
one  man,  and  him  drunk,  I  just  knocked  him  off  his  horse, 
and  cleared  off  across  the  fields. 

"  I  rode  on  until  I  got  a  sight  of  this  town,  and  the  main 
road  into  it,  from  a  hill-top,  and  watched  for  an  hour  or  so 
to  see  what  was  happening.  I  knew  by  my  pace  that  I  was 
well  ahead  of  my  late  escort,  and  seeing  no  signs  of  them, 
came  on  to  this  inn,  and  was  enjoying  a  good  dinner  when  I 
saw  Sultan  and  Oliver  on  him.  The  rest  you  know.  Not 
much  of  a  tale.  Madge  has  done  better  many  a  time." 

"  Do   you  really  think    the    Captain   intended   you  to 


120  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

escape  ?  "  It  was  Margaret  who  asked  the  question,  looking 
intently  at  me  as  she  spoke. 

I  looked  from  her  to  Master  Freake  and  back  again, 
meaning  to  remind  her  that  I  wanted  no  convincing,  but  she 
still  kept  her  eyes  on  mine,  her  chin  cupped  in  her  long  white 
hands,  and  I  was  glad  of  her  insistence  for  I  could  look  at 
her  without  offence.  I  thought  the  mellow  fire-light  made 
her  look  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The  lustrous  yellow 
hair  shone  like  molten  gold,  and  the  dark  blue  eyes  became 
a  queenly  purple. 

"If  it  were  done  on  purpose  it  was  done  cleverly,"  con- 
tinued the  Colonel,  "  for  the  chance  which  set  me  free  came 
quite  naturally.  The  horse  I  rode  yesterday  was  wanted 
in  the  usual  way  by  a  trooper  to  whom  it  belonged,  and 
where  so  many  men  were  more  or  less  drunk,  the  choice  of 
my  particular  drunkard  was  certainly  accidental.  And, 
besides,  what  possible  motive  could  there  be  in  letting  me 
escape  ?  Brocton  knows  I'm  an  experienced  soldier  of 
great  repute — I  state  plain  facts — and  am  eagerly  expected 
by  the  Prince  and  by  my  old  companion-in-arms,  Geordie 
Murray.  They  couldn't  have  planned  it  better  if  they  had 
wished  it,  but  it's  absurd  to  say  they  wished  it.  There 
ought  to  be  a  cashiered  captain  and  a  half -flayed  dragoon 
somewhere  south  of  us.  Damme,  I  merit  that  at  least." 

He  bent  over  the  hearth  to  relight  his  pipe.  Master 
Freake  smiled  and  rubbed  his  hands  gently.  Margaret's  eyes 
blazed  with  triumph,  and  challenged  me,  still  me,  to  share  it. 
Woman-logic  was  clean  beyond  my  poor  wits.  I  was  sick 
for  action.  These  glorious  interludes  with  Margaret  gave 
me  no  chance.  It  was  like  setting  me  afire  and  asking  me 
not  to  burn. 

Thinking  of  the  poor,  half-flayed  devil  behind  us,  made 
me  think  of  the  sergeant,  and  I  asked  Master  Freake,  "  Did 
you  give  the  sergeant  his  papers  and  letter  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  ready  reply.  "  The  papers  dealt  rather 
frankly  with  certain  regimental  accounts,  and,  since  the 
sergeant  is  now  very  bitterly  set  against  us,  may  be  useful 
in  my  hands.  I  had  a  shrewd  notion  that  the  letter  con- 
cerned the  title  to  certain  lands  as  to  which  Lord  Brocton 
and  I  are  at  odds,  and  on  opening  it  I  found  to  my  satis- 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  121 

faction  that  I  was  right.  With  your  permission,  Oliver.  I 
will  keep  it." 

"  By  all  means  do  so,"  said  I,  anxious  to  burn  again,  and 
turning  back  to  Margaret.  If  this  silent,  capacious  man,  so 
great  a  stranger  yet  so  clear  a  friend,  had  said  that  the  letter 
was  about  a  new  edition  of  Virgil,  I  should  have  believed  him, 
and  also,  I  fear  me,  have  been  equally  uninterested.  Latin 
be  damned ! 

"  Something  for  you  in  Oliver's  magic-hat,"  said  Margaret 
smilingly  to  Master  Freake.  "  He  really  must  fetch  some- 
thing out  for  himself  soon.  Staffordshire  is  by  far  the  most 
delightful  country  I  have  ever  been  in.  Only  one  little  day 
has  gone  by,  and  in  that  day  Staffordshire  has  given  me 
more  and  truer  friends  than  Europe  gave  me  in  ten  years.  I 
shall  cross  its  borders  with  regret.  Shall  we  make  the  most 
of  it  while  we  have  it  and  sleep  here,  dad  ?  " 

"  Unless  we're  routed  out,"  was  his  reply,  "  and  I  do  not 
think  we  shall  be,  for  the  enemy  have  all  cleared  out  of  the 
town.  Cumberland  is,  of  course,  doing  the  right  thing.  He 
had  few  men  north  of  Stafford,  and  fewer  still  worth  powder 
and  shot.  Where  the  Prince  is  I've  no  idea." 

"  Resting  for  the  day  at  Macclesfield,"  said  Master 
Freake,  "  and  his  plans  are  not  certain,  or,  at  least,  not 
known.  The  Duke  of  Kingston  has  a  small  body  of  horse 
at  Congleton  and  is  watching  his  movements." 

"  Damme,"  the  Colonel  broke  in,  "  I  did  not  know  we 
had  enemies  north  of  us.  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Certain.  One  of  my  men  reported  the  facts  to  me  just 
before  supper." 

"  It's  awkward,  or  rather  will  be  awkward  if  anyone  who 
knows  me  turns  up.  That  rascally  landlord  of  ours  must 
have  known  where  Kingston  was,  but  amid  all  his  talk  he 
never  told  me  that.  Damme,  somebody's  got  hold  of  him. 
Still,  you  can't  take  the  bull  by  the  horns  till  his  nose  is 
slobbering  your  waistcoat,  so  pass  the  wine,  Oliver." 

He  refilled  his  glass  and  then,  leisurely  and  with  his  eyes 
dreamily  fixed  on  the  fire,  loaded  his  pipe  with  a  new  charge 
of  tobacco,  and  went  on  smoking. 

"  Are  you  a  Jacobite  ? "  suddenly  asked  Margaret, 
looking  inquiringly  at  Master  Freake. 


122  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Dear  me,  no,  Mistress  Margaret,"  was  the  frank  reply. 
"  But  you  need  not  curl  those  sweet  lips  of  yours,  for  neither 
am  I  a  Hanoverian." 

"  Then  what  are  you  ?  "  she  asked  again,  with  the  same 
uncompromising  directness. 

"  A  Freakeiteian,"  said  he  with  a  smile. 

"It  puzzles  me,"  was  her  brief  comment. 

"  Let  me  explain,"  said  he  simply.  "  A  Jacobite  wants 
Charles  to  win ;  a  Hanoverian  wants  George  to  win ;  a 
Freakeiteian  wants  to  know  who  is  going  to  win." 

By  this  time  Margaret  was  no  more  puzzled  than  I  was. 
Yesterday  when  I  stood  on  the  river-bank  watching  my  cork, 
I  cared  not  a  rap  whether  George  or  Charles  won,  and  that 
was  an  understandable  position  ;  but  why  a  man  should  be 
spending  money  in  handfuls,  and  roughing  it  in  the  wilds  of 
Staffordshire,  merely  in  order  to  know  who  was  going  to  win, 
was  beyond  my  poor  wits. 

"  You  do  not  understand  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  Margaret  and  I  together. 

The  Colonel  took  no  notice.  He  was  puffing  away  at 
his  pipe,  long-drawn-out,  solemn  puffs,  and  gazing  at  the 
fire  in  a  brown  study. 

"  Well,  Margaret  and  Oliver,"  said  Master  Freake,  "  this 
is  no  time  to  be  giving  you  lessons  in  the  way  the  great  world 
wags  that  neither  knows  nor  cares  of  outs  and  ins  and  party 
shufflings,  but  is  busy  with  rents  and  crops,  and  incomings 
and  outgoings,  and  debts  and  credits,  and  wivings  and 
thrivings.  But,  believe  me,  in  being  anxious  to  know  who  is 
going  to  win,  I  am  as  plainly  and  simply  doing  my  duty  as 
is  the  Colonel  who  is  going  to  do  his  best  to  help  his  Prince 
to  win.  I  am  one,  and,  I  thank  God,  not  the  least,  of  that 
great  race  of  men  who  are  destined  to  mould  a  mightier 
England  than  the  sword  could  ever  carve — the  merchant 
of  London  whose  nod  is  his  bond." 

He  spoke  with  simple  dignity  and  his  word  was  estab- 
lished. I  had  trusted  him  on  sight.  "  His  nod  was  his 
bond."  You  saw  it  in  the  man's  clear,  steady  eyes  and  knew 
it  by  the  set  of  his  firm,  square  chin.  After  a  warning  glance 
at  the  silent  Colonel,  he  leaned  forward,  and  Margaret  bent 
to  meet  him. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  123 

"  If  Charles  loses,"  he  murmured,  "  many  heads  will  be 
smitten  from  their  shoulders." 

The  colour  left  her  cheeks  instantly  and  tears  welled 
forth  from  her  eyes. 

"  But  not  the  Colonel's,"  he  whispered. 

I  was  watching  her  with  the  eye  of  a  hawk.  A  smile 
dawned  on  the  white  face,  the  sad  eyes  began  to  lose  their 
gloom,  and  my  fool  of  a  heart  began  to  flutter. 

Yet  once  more  he  whispered,  "  And  not  Oliver's." 

She  leaned  farther  forward  still  and  kissed  him. 

And  it  was  just  at  that  moment  that  the  door  opened 
smartly  and  Cherry-Cheeks  put  her  sweet  head  round  it 
and  swiftly  and  peremptorily  beckoned  me  outside. 

Margaret  laughed. 

In  the  dim  passage,  Cherry- Cheeks  caught  my  hand 
afrrightedly  and  babbled,  "  Oh,  sir,  there's  the  ugliest  beast 
you  ever  saw  spying  on  her  ladyship.  Take  your  boots 
off,  sir,  and  creep  after  me  !  " 

I  tugged  them  off  and  we  started.  Along  the  passage 
she  flew  and  upstairs  into  the  corresponding  passage  above. 
Here,  outside  the  Duke's  room,  she  stopped  and  whispered, 
"  He'll  think  I'm  that  bitch  Sal.  Hide  behind  me  !  " 

She  opened  the  door  and  stole  into  the  room  with  me  in 
tow,  holding  her  skirt  and  crouching  down  nearly  to  the 
floor. 

She  was  somewhat  broad  in  the  beam,  like  a  Dutch  hoy, 
and  all  I  could  see  was  a  dull  glimmer  somewhere  ahead  in 
the  darkness. 

"  Ssss-h,  damn  ye,"  said  the  beast  fiercely.  "  Stand 
still !  " 

Cherry-Cheeks  took  care  not  to  stop  till  near  the  light, 
and  then,  with  wonderful  ready  wit,  put  her  right  hand  on 
her  hip  and  I  peeped  through  between  arm  and  waist. 

Full  length  on  his  belly  lay  the  man  from  Yarlet  Bank. 
There  was  a  small  spy-hole  in  the  floor,  on  the  edge  of  the 
hearth,  and  he  had  his  right  ear  against  it,  which  was  lucky, 
for  it  kept  his  face  turned  from  me.  The  notebook  lay  open 
on  the  floor  near  a  guttering  tallow  candle  in  an  iron  candle- 
stick, and  the  stump  of  pencil  was  clenched  in  his  dirty 
yellow  teeth. 


124  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

I  threw  my  handkerchief  on  the  floor,  took  my  fat  little 
Virgil  in  my  left  hand,  and  crept  out  to  him.  When  near  on 
top  of  him,  I  gripped  him  round  the  nape  of  the  neck,  digging 
my  fingers  in  his  flabby  throat,  and  he  went  slimy  with 
fright  like  a  great,  fat  lob-worm.  I  swooped  down  on  him 
with  my  full  weight,  and  pinned  him  to  the  floor.  His  big 
mouth  opened  as  he  fought  for  breath,  and  I  clapped  the 
Virgil  hard  and  far  into  it,  tying  it  tight  in  with  my  handker- 
chief, and  gagging  him  effectually. 

I  looked  up  and  found,  to  my  relief,  that  Cherry-Cheeks, 
like  a  sensible  girl,  had  crept  out  of  the  room,  and  her  share 
in  the  affair  was  never  even  suspected. 

Drawing  my  tuck,  I  touched  the  back  of  his  neck 
with  the  point.  He  flinched  and  squirmed,  great  drops  of 
sweat  larded  his  nasty  face,  and  I  knew  the  fear  of  death 
and  hell  was  in  his  marrow. 

"  Do  exactly  what  I  say,"  I  whispered,  "  or  through  it 
goes.  Understand  ?  " 

He  could  hardly  nod  his  ugly  head  for  the  trembling  of 
his  body,  and  I  fairly  dithered  as  I  knelt  on  him.  I  made 
him  rise,  and  then  caught  hold  of  the  skirt  of  his  coat.  Hold- 
ing him  by  it  at  arm's  length,  I  stuck  my  point  to  his  neck 
again,  and  said,  "  Forward." 

I  marched  him  downstairs  and  along  the  passage.  There 
was  great  risk  of  being  met  by  some  one,  and  it  was  the  most 
anxious  time  I  had  had  since  the  affair  with  the  sergeant  in 
the  house-place  at  the  Hanyards.  Oddly  enough,  as  I 
drove  him  along,  the  thought  came  to  me  of  the  bygone 
days  when  Jack  and  I  had  played  horses  just  like  this  at 
the  Hanyards,  and  when  my  prisoner  stuck  a  trifle  at  the 
door  of  the  guest-room,  I  growled  at  him,  "  Come  up ! " 
It  was  a  strange  trick  of  the  mind.  To  me  he  was  just  play- 
horse  Jack  dawdling  to  look  at  ten-year-old  Kate  feeding 
her  chickens. 

I  got  him  in  unseen  without  and  unnoticed  within,  for  the 
Colonel  and  Master  Freake  were  again  at  their  arguments  of 
state,  hammer  and  tongs,  and  they  minded  the  click  of  the 
door  behind  them  no  more  than  the  crack  of  a  spark  at  their 
feet.  Indeed  the  Colonel  said  "  Pish  !  "  with  great  vehemence, 
and  Master  Freake's  "  My  dear  sir!  "  had  a  shake  of  pepper 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  125 

in  it.  As  for  me,  I  like  a  man  who,  when  he  gets  into  a 
thing,  gets  into  it  up  to  the  neck. 

Margaret  added  to  my  amusement,  for  as  I  pricked  my 
prisoner  on  into  the  fire-light,  and  peeped  over  his  shoulder, 
he  being  a  good  six  inches  shorter  than  I,  madam  leaned 
forward  and  became  absorbed  in  the  high  debate. 

"  I  beg  to  report,  sir,"  said  I,  as  indifferently  as  I  could 
manage  to  speak,  "  the  capture  of  a  spy." 

"  Hang  him  at  daybreak,"  said  the  Colonel,  without 
so  much  as  looking  at  him.  "  Pish,  man,  the  trade  in 

salted  herrings  is  no  more  a  nursery  of  seamen  than  I'm 

Damme,  what's  this,  Oliver  ?  Damme,  it's  Weir.  Your 
servant,  Mister  Weir,  and  I  shall  vastly  relish  seeing  you 
strung  up." 

I  gave  a  brief  account  of  where  and  how  I  had  found 
him,  making  no  mention  of  our  helpful  girl  friend,  but 
pointing  out  that  he  had  co-scoundrels  at  work  for  him  in 
the  inn. 

"  Another  good  piece  of  work,  Oliver,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"  I  like  the  way  you  use  your  available  material.  I've  seen 
many  things  used  as  gags,  but  not  a  book  before  ;  yet  it 
makes  a  very  good  one.  Keeps  him  quiet  as  a  stone 
and  withal  leaves  him  free  to  lick  up  a  few  crumbs  of 
learning." 

Margaret  had  not  looked  at  me  yet,  and  indeed  seemed 
bent  on  keeping  her  face,  heightened  in  colour  by  the  warmth 
and  glow  of  the  fire,  turned  away  from  me.  Now  a  rather 
big  matter  had  come  into  my  mind,  so  I  said  urgently,  "  Name 
of  a  dog,"  and  thus  shook  her  into  looking  at  me.  Where- 
upon, I  pointed  first  to  Mr.  Freake,  then  to  the  spy,  and 
wagged  my  head  sagely.  Her  quick  mind  saw  at  once  that 
I  was  afraid  that  our  friend  would  be  compromised  if  we 
were  not  careful.  She  promptly  said  something  to  her 
father  in  an  unknown  tongue,  and  by  the  cock  of  his  eye 
I  knew  he'd  taken  the  point. 

"  My  good  friend,"  he  said,  "  pray  step  over  to  his  worship 
the  Mayor  and  ask  him  to  come  over  and  commit  this  rascally 
spy  to  the  town  jail.  Say,  I  beg,  that  I  am  grieved  to  have 
to  disturb  him,  but  His  Majesty's  servants  must  ever  be  at 
the  disposal  of  His  Majesty's  affairs." 


126  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

I  grinned  behind  the  spy's  back  at  this  masterly  way  of 
getting  George's  servant  to  do  James's  work.  Master 
Freake  started  at  once,  and,  stepping  with  him  to  the  door, 
I  whispered,  "  Give  us  fifteen  minutes." 

"  Right !  "  he  whispered  back  again.  "  Look  in  your 
holsters  !  " 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone,  the  Colonel  ordered  me  to  guard 
the  door,  and  this  gave  me  the  chance  of  putting  on  my 
boots  again.  The  Colonel,  cutting  off  with  his  sword  a  good 
length  of  bell  rope,  made  a  swift  and  most  workmanlike  job 
of  tying  the  spy  into  a  knot.  He  then  opened  the  window, 
and,  Margaret  taking  my  place  meanwhile,  he  and  I  cautiously 
bundled  Weir  on  to  the  balcony,  shut  down  the  window,  and 
left  him  safe  and  silent. 

"  Be  in  the  porch  in  ten  minutes,  Margaret,  ready  to 
start.  Oliver,  get  the  horses  there  ready  in  that  time.  You 
ride  the  troop-horse,  and  Freake  has  provided  a  mare 
for  Margaret.  Quick's  the  work  and  sharp's  the 
motion  !  " 

Margaret  and  I  started  together  to  carry  out  our  orders. 
Once  in  the  passage  we  had  to  go  different  ways,  and  I 
bowed  and  was  going  mine  without  a  word,  when  she  put 
her  hand  on  my  arm  and  stayed  me. 

"  I'm  sorry  you've  lost  your  Virgil,"  she  said. 

I  wondered,  as  already  so  many  times  I  had  wondered, 
at  the  somersaults  of  feeling  she  was  capable  of.  Where  was 
now  the  Margaret  of  the  short,  disdainful  laugh  ?  Not 
here,  in  the  twilight  between  the  bright  room  and  the  black 
yard.  Here  was  a  subtle,  mysterious  Margaret,  half  regret 
and  half  caprice,  with  one  thought  in  her  eyes  and  another 
on  her  lips. 

"  So  am  I,  madam.  I  wish  it  had  been  Kate's  cookery- 
book." 

She  would  have  mastered  me  had  I  stayed  another 
second.  I  bowed  again  and  left  her. 

And  this  is,  perhaps,  the  best  place  to  say  that  I  did  not 
lose  my  Virgil  after  all.  Here  it  is  on  the  table  as  I  write,  still 
the  dearest  of  all  my  books.  On  each  side  of  the  healing 
an  irregular  curve  of  teeth-marks  cuts  into  the  yellowing 
parchment.  Dear,  brave  Cherry-Cheeks  sent  it  home  by  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  127 

i 

hands  of  a  vagrom  pedlar,  laboriously  and  exactly  writing 
on  the  package  the  inscription  she  found  on  the  fly  leaf  : 

OLIVBJL  WHEATMAN,  Esquire, 
of  the  Hanyards, 

Staffordshire, 
jf.tatis  cmnt  13 

I  routed  out  ostlers,  and  by  dint  of  a  judicious  blend  of 
cursings  and  bribings  had  the  horses  ready  under  the  arch- 
way in  time.  Margaret  was  there  waiting,  with  our  pretty 
maid  fluttering  around  her.  The  Colonel  was  within,  settling 
with  the  word-warrior  host.  I  helped  Margaret  into  the 
saddle  and  led  her  horse  into  the  street,  turning  its  head 
northward.  In  a  moment,  her  father  clattered  alter  her  on 
Sultan.  I  went  back  to  smile  farewell  to  Cherry -Cheeks 
and  deal  out  my  bribes,  but  was  after  them  before  they  had 
trotted  a  stone's  throw. 

They  were  cantering  towards  the  bridge  by  which  the 
high  street  of  the  town  crosses  a  tiny  streamlet  and  again 
becomes  the  high  road  to  the  north-west.  It  was  only  a 
pistol-shot  from  the  portico  of  the  "  Rising  Sun  "  to  the 
hither  side  of  the  bridge,  where  a  group  of  townsmen  were 
collected  round  a  man  with  a  lantern.  We  had  ridden  forth 
into  a  strangely  quiet  town,  but  before  I  was  half-way  to 
the  bridge,  and  not  yet  settled  down  to  my  saddle,  loud 
shrieks  rang  out  behind  me.  Looking  back,  I  saw  a  woman 
leaning  forth,  candle  in  hand,  from  the  Duke's  bedroom 
window.  She  waved  her  light  and  yelled  as  one  distraught. 
There  was  no  mistaking  what  had  happened.  Sal,  the  sour- 
faced  hussy  who  wanted  me  hanged,  had  learned  the  fate 
of  the  spy.  Folks  rushed  from  all  quarters  to  see  what  was 
the  matter.  The  sooner  we  were  well  out  of  it  the  better, 
and  I  pricked  on  to  overtake  the  Colonel  and  Margaret. 

I  was  near  on  them  at  the  bridge,  where  the  gossips  had 
lined  up  to  watch  them  pass.  Timothy  was  there,  thankful 
for  once,  I  thought,  of  his  long  coat,  while  the  man  who 
held  the  lantern  was  the  man  to  whom  I  owed  a  drubbing. 
I  wondered  what  he  was  doing  there  with  a  lantern,  for  it 
was  a  brilliant  moonlight  night,  and,  since  he  made  to  run 
townwards  as  soon  as  he  saw  who  was  passing,  I  felt  in  my 


128  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

bones  that  he  meant  mischief  and  was  probably  in  league 
with  the  spy.  I  turned  my  horse  at  him  before  he  was  cleai 
of  the  bridge  and  tumbled  him  back  headlong  on  Timothy, 
who  yelled  the  most  astonishing  yell  I  ever  heard,  snatched 
the  lantern  out  of  Beery  Breath's  unresisting  fingers,  and 
with  it  smashed  into  him  with  such  a  fury  that  he  beat  him 
to  his  knees. 

I  laughed,  for  the  man  had  got  his  drubbing  after  all, 
through  me  if  not  by  me.  As  for  the  other  townies,  they 
enjoyed  it  like  a  play. 

"  Gom  !  "  said  one.     "  He's  trod  on  Tim's  gammy  toe." 

"  Damn  if  he  don't  turn  on  'is  missus  when  'er  does  that," 
said  another. 

The  Colonel  and  Margaret  were  looking  back  when  I 
drew  level. 

"  Anything  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  spy  is  discovered,  sir,"  I  said. 

"  Does  that  mean  harm  to  Master  Freake  ?  "  inquired 
Margaret. 

"  Not  it,"  replied  the  Colonel.  "  He's  got  the  Mayor  in 
his  pocket.  Do  you  know  this  country,  Oliver  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  was  my  answer.  "  Only  in  broad  outline. 
This  is  the  main  road  to  Chester,  and  away  on  our  right  is 
an  open  country  running  up  into  roughish  moorland  and 
hills.  Leek  lies  that  way  on  the  Derby  road  to  London. 
The  country  to  our  left  I  know  nothing  about." 

"  Then  we'll  stick  to  the  main  road  as  long  as  possible 
and  stop  at  the  first  inn  after  all  danger-spots  are  behind 
us.  Sorry  to  turn  you  out,  Madge,  but  it  was  impossible 
to  stop  once  Weir  found  us  out,  since  Kingston  and  his  men 
might  have  turned  up  at  any  moment,  and  then  we  should 
have  been  done  for.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  get  north  of 
him.  From  the  south  we  have  nothing  to  fear  now.  Broc- 
ton's  dragoons  would  have  turned  up  hours  ago  if  there  was 
any  intention  of  trying  to  recapture  me.  Freake  had  sent 
one  of  his  men  down  the  road  to  give  us  time  to  clear  off  if 
Brocton  did  pursue.  That  was  why  I  was  content  to  stay 
on  at  the  inn." 

"  Weir  knows  who  you  are,  sir,  I  take  it  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Exactly.     He's  a  notorious  Government  spy,  and  is 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  129 

busy  here  worming  into  our  local  plans.  There  are  plenty 
of  the  honest  party  hereabouts,  and  especially  over  to  the 
west  there  in  Wales." 

"  Are  we  still  in  Staffordshire,  Master  Wheatman  ?  " 
asked  Margaret. 

"  Oh  yes,  for  quite  a  distance  ahead,"  I  replied. 

"  The  spirit  of  prophecy  is  upon  me,  gentlemen,"  she  said 
merrily.  "  Our  Staffordshire  luck  is  not  yet  out,  and  this 
time  it's  Master  Wheatman's  turn." 

"  Well,  then,  Master  Wheatman  shall  ride  ahead  and 
scout  for  it.  About  thirty  yards,  Oliver.  Keep  your  horse 
well  in  hand,  and  be  all  eyes  and  ears.  Damn  this  moon  ! 
It  picks  us  out  like  three  crows  on  a  field  of  snow,  and  this 
infernal  road's  as  straight  and  level  as  a  plank.  Ride  in  any 
available  shadow  !  " 

I  went  ahead  and  set  them  an  easy  pace.  Work  had 
begun  again,  the  work  of  my  heart's  desire,  and  all  along 
the  Chester  road  there  was  no  blither  spirit  than  mine  that 
night.  I  was  astride  a  flaming  sorrel,  no  match  for  Sultan, 
but  still  a  good  sound  horse.  He  knew  I  was  his  master  and 
so  I  made  him  a  friend,  patting  his  neck,  crooning  to  him, 
and  giving  him  a  lick  of  sugar  out  of  my  hand.  The  danger 
we  were  in  was  like  wine  to  my  heart.  Enemies  ahead  and 
enemies  behind,  and  this  bare,  bleak,  moon-smitten  road 
between.  Now  and  again,  for  remembrance'  sake  and  the 
joy  of  it,  I  cocked  my  ear  to  pick  out  the  patter  of  Margaret's 
mare  from  the  heavier,  longer  strides  of  Sultan.  Yes,  there 
she  was,  doubtless  murmuring  Italian  love-ditties  to  her 

happy  inmost  self  and  thinking  of Pshaw  !  This  was 

romancing,  and  another's  romance  at  that,  and  it  deadened 
me  against  my  will,  while  here  was  a  man's  work  to  do.  So 
I  turned  to  it  and  lived. 

I  examined  the  holsters,  according  to  Master  Freake's 
orders.  I  found  a  pair  of  pistols  which,  even  in  the  pale 
moonlight,  looked  what  they  indeed  were — handsome, 
accurate  weapons,  the  best  work  of  the  best  gunsmith  in 
London.  I  was  the  equal  of  most  men  with  the  pistol,  and 
usually  had,  indeed,  a  capital  pair  at  the  Hanyards,  but 
Jack  had  taken  them  off  with  him  on  his  dragooning.  Over 
and  above  the  pistols  and  their  ammunition  I  found  a  sizeable 


130  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

leathern  bag,  and  the  feel  of  it  to  my  fingers  showed  that  it 
was  chock-full  of  money.  When  I  did  turn  it  out  next  "day, 
I  found  near  on  sixty  pounds,  mostly  in  guineas  and  half- 
guineas,  and  a  note  : 

"  Dear  lad,  this  town  is  very  bare  of  guineas  and  many  of 
them  are  lighter  than  the  law  alloweth,  but  you  shall  have 
more  as  occasion  offers. — Your  friend,  J.  F." 

I  turned  to  the  road  again  with  a  merrier  heart  than  ever, 
for  I  thought,  as  Smite-and-spare-not  would  have  thought 
before  me,  that  the  very  handiwork  of  God  Himself  was 
here  displayed,  in  that  the  seemingly  most  untoward  events 
of  our  journey  had  been  turned  into  means  of  strength  and 
assurance.  Had  I,  as  I  ought  to  have  done,  brought  money 
of  my  own  from  the  Hanyards,  I  should  never  have  started 
highwayman,  and  so  never  have  met  Master  Freake  on 
Wes'on  Bank." 

Three  miles  or  more  we  made  in  this  manner,  and  I  had 
heard  nothing  more  alarming  than  the  hoot  of  an  owl  from 
an  ivy-crusted  elm.  Some  distance  back  the  road  had 
climbed  slightly  for  a  space,  then  fallen  into  the  level  again, 
and  now  ran,  open  and  unhedged,  across  the  bleaky  top  of 
a  barren  upland.  I  chirruped  to  the  sorrel  and  gave  him 
another  lick  of  sugar  to  comfort  him.  A  moment  later, 
I  knew  by  the  forward  cock  of  his  ears  and  the  swift  up-shake 
of  his  head  that  something  was  in  the  wind,  and  strained  my 
own  ears  to  listen,  for  there  was  nothing  of  note  visible  ahead 
or  around. 

From  far  ahead  came  the  faint  rattle  of  hoofs  on  the  hard 
road.  I  pulled  up,  and,  a  moment  later,  Margaret  and  the 
Colonel  stopped  beside  me. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  latter. 

"  Horse  coming  this  way,  sir,"  was  my  reply.  The 
sounds  were  already  plainer.  For  a  full  minute  he  listened 
carefully.  "  A  good  number  of  them,  and  making  a  smart 
pace,"  he  said.  "  It  can  only  be  Kingston's  advance  guard 
falling  back.  Most  likely  the  van  of  the  Highlanders  has 

beaten  up  their  quarters.  Once  past  them  we  shall  be 

Hello  !  Slids  !  What's  that  ?  Reinforcements  r  Egad. 
Oliver,  we're  between  the  hammer  and  the  anvil." 

He  turned  his  head  round  sharply  and  so  did  Margaret 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  131 

and  I.  From  behind  us  came  again  the  unmistakable 
rattle  of  a  body  of  horse.  We  were  trapped  completely. 

"  This  is  damned  annoying,"  said  the  Colonel.  He  looked 
casually  around,  as  indifferently  as  he  would  have  looked 
round  the  guest-room  of  the  "  Rising  Sun,"  and  added, 
"  Follow  me,  and  ride  as  if  the  devil  were  at  your  tail." 

He  turned  off  into  the  bare,  flat  country,  and  we  after 
him.  How  we  rode  !  He  was  making  for  a  little  group  of 
trees,  some  dozen  wind-sown  pines,  stuck  like  a  forlorn 
picket  in  enemy  country  a  stone's-throw  from  the  road. 
We  got  there  in  a  bunch,  for  there  was  no  time  for  Sultan's 
pace  to  count. 

"  Damn  the  moon  !  "  he  said,  and  dismounted.  "  But  this 
is  better  than  nothing.  Take  off  Margaret's  saddle,  Oliver." 

I  got  down,  and  assisted  Margaret  to  dismount.  She 
thanked  me,  briefly  and  smilingly,  as  unperturbed  as  the 
gaunt  pine  beneath  which  she  stood. 

The  Colonel  and  I  changed  the  saddles,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  Margaret  was  on  Sultan.  I  asked  him  in  vain  to 
take  the  sorrel  and  leave  the  mare  to  me,  for  she  was  getting 
restive,  and  the  Colonel  was  not  quite  so  able  as  I  was  with 
a  strange  horse.  I  insisted,  however,  in  taking  off  my  coat 
and  wrapping  it  about  the  mare's  head,  and,  being  thus 
blanketed,  she  gave  us  no  further  trouble.  By  the  Colonel's 
orders,  Margaret,  on  Sultan,  took  her  place  between  us, 
heading  for  the  open  country,  while  he  and  I  turned  to  the 
road.  The  thin,  straggling  pine-branches  cast  but  little 
shadow,  and  I  knew  it  was  next  to  impossible  for  us  to  pass 
unnoticed. 

"  Now,  Madge,"  said  the  Colonel,  "it's  bound  to  come 
to  a  fight.  As  soon  as  the  fun  begins,  off  you  go  like  the 
wind  into  this  bog-hole  in  front  of  you,  and  in  five  minutes 
you'll  be  out  of  danger.  Make  a  detour  round  to  the  road 
again,  keep  the  moon  behind  your  back,  and  push  on  to  the 
nearest  inn.  Oliver  and  I  will  join  you  there,  if  so  God 
wills.  If  we  don't,  you're  on  the  Chester  road.  Have  you 
your  money  still  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dad." 

"  You  understand,  Madge  ?  " 

"  Quite  clearly." 


132  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Then  kiss  me,  sweetheart." 

She  kissed  him  without  a  word,  and  turned  to  look  good- 
bye to  me.  For  a  moment  I  went  all  aquiver  with  emotion. 
This  wonderful  new  life  of  mine  had  at  times  to  be  lived  in 
the  outskirts  and  suburbs  of  death.  Fortunately,  a  thought 
came  into  my  head,  and  I  tugged  out  the  leathern  bag  and 
thrust  it  into  her  hand. 

"  Don't  leave  that  under  the  bed,"  said  I,  and,  being 
very  bold,  as  one  may  be  with  death  at  one's  door,  I  drew 
her  gloved  hand,  with  the  bag  in  it,  towards  me,  and  kissed 
it.  She  said  nothing  to  me,  but  the  light  in  her  eyes  was 
like  moonlight  on  the  dancing  surface  of  a  mountain  spring. 

"  Look  to  your  pistols,  Oliver,"  ordered  the  Colonel 
briefly  and  crisply.  "  See  your  tuck  slips  easy  in  the  scabbard. 
Another  minute  will  decide.  You  and  I  can  easily  give 
Madge  all  the  start  Sultan  requires." 

"  Easily,  sir,"  I  answered  stoutly. 

"  Good  lad  !  "  said  the  Colonel. 

And  Margaret,  leaning  across  until  her  lips  were  near  my 
cheek  as  I  bent  to  see  what  she  wanted,  said,  for  the  third 
time,  "  Well  done,  fisherman  !  "  I  laughed  lightly  and  was 
glad,  for  was  not  this  calm,  brave,  splendid  woman  thinking 
of  how  we  two  had  met  ? 

From  the  first  cock  of  the  sorrel's  ears  to  this  so  character- 
istic remark  of  Margaret's  could  not  have  been  five  minutes, 
and  now,  although  owing  to  the  downward  slope  to  our  left 
I  have  mentioned,  and  its  corresponding  slope  to  the  right, 
neither  body  was  yet  in  sight,  they  were  so  nearly  on  us  that 
differences  between  them  became  obvious.  The  southern 
troup  was  small,  was  not  travelling  beyond  a  smart  trot, 
and  was,  so  far  as  the  men  were  concerned,  absolutely  quiet. 
The  body  from  the  north  was  large,  was  forcing  a  hot  gallop, 
and  much  noise  and  shouting  came  from  the  troopers. 

It  was  plain  that  we  were  in  for  it.  The  men  from 
Newcastle  were  no  doubt  coming  north  as  a  reinforcement, 
but  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  that  they  had  not  been  told 
of  our  doings  and  of  our  escape  northwards.  They  had  not 
overtaken  us,  and  we  must  be  on  the  road  somewhere.  The 
men  from  the  north  had  not  met  us.  Never  since  the  world 
began  had  two  and  two  been  easier  to  put  together.  There 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  133 

was  only  one  place  for  us  to  be  in  and  this  was  it.  A  short 
parley,  a  glance  our  way,  and  an  overwhelming  force  would 
dash  at  the  picket  of  pines. 

The  bare  road  lay  there  in  the  moonlight,  half  a  mile  of 
it  in  clear  view  on  either  hand.  The  two  bodies  came  in 
sight  within  a  few  seconds  of  each  other,  and  the  Colonel 
snapped  his  fingers  and  chuckled. 

From  the  north  a  wild  rush  of  spurring,  flogging,  shouting, 
cursing  horsemen,  about  a  hundred  of  them.  No  order, 
no  discipline,  no  soldiership — nothing  but  mad  haste  and 
madder  fear. 

The  mare  began  to  plunge,  and  the  Colonel,  leaping  off, 
nearly  strangled  her  in  the  coat.  The  sorrel  got  uneasy 
but  gave  me  no  real  trouble.  Sultan  took  not  the  slightest 
notice  of  the  din  behind  him,  and  leisurely  cropped  the 
tough  bussocks  of  grass  at  his  feet. 

I  looked  to  the  road  again.  The  southern  body  was 
small,  not  more  than  a  score,  compact,  riding  smartly  but 
with  military  order  and  precision.  The  man  at  their  head, 
the  officer  in  command,  no  doubt,  spurred  on  and  began  to 
shout  at  the  oncoming  northerners.  He  might  as  well  have 
spoken  fair  words  to  an  avalanche,  and  the  men  behind 
him  began  to  waver  and  most  of  them  pulled  up.  It  was 
useless.  The  torrent  swept  into  them  and  bore  them  back- 
ward, tumbling  some  of  them  over,  men  and  horses  together, 
but  incorporating  most  of  them  in  its  own  madness.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  the  last  batch  of  dragooners  had  cursed 
and  spurred  themselves  out  of  sight,  and  the  bright  moon 
shone  down  on  a  road  once  more  bare  and  white  save  for  a 
few  scattered  patches  of  black. 

The  Colonel  uncovered  the  mare's  head  and  nuzzled  her. 
All  he  said  was,  but  that  very  gleefully,  "  Geordie,  my 
boy,  I'll  be  routing  you  out  of  St.  James's  within  the  fort- 
night. I'll  learn  you  to  neglect  the  King  of  Sweden's 
Colonels  !  Damme,  Oliver,  it  made  me  think  of  Pharaoh's 
kine — one  lot  eating  the  other  up.  Now,  sweetheart  my 
Madge,  we'll  have  your  pretty  eyes  a-bye-bye  in  no  time." 

"  I  never  saw  anything  so  funny  in  my  life,"  said  Margaret. 
"  On  with  your  coat,  Oliver,  before  you  take  cold." 

From  all  of  which  I  learned  to  take,  as  they  did,  the 


134  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

fat  with  the  lean  in  soldiering,  and  not  to  care  a  brass  farthing 
tthich  it  was.  Still,  I  was  as  yet  so  young  at  the  game,  that, 
though  I  was  careful  to  swagger  it  out  and  say  nothing,  I  did 
wonder  why  the  body  from  the  south  was  so  smalL 

And  I  wonder  as  I  write  whether  it  was  or  was  not  the 
mistake  of  my  life  merely  to  wonder  then. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
"  WAR  HAS  ITS  RISKS  " 

I  SLEPT  unsoundly  and  in  snatches.  Margaret  was  in 
the  room  beneath  me,  "  dreaming  in  Italian,"  thought  I, 
in  unhappy  imitation  of  her  dainty  gibe  at  her  father. 
A  problem  was  on  my  mind,  and  that  was  ever  with  me  an 
enemy  to  sleep.  I  meant  being  the  best  of  soldiers,  and  this 
that  worried  me  was  a  military  problem.  To  be  short,  I 
could  not  help  asking  myself,  "  Were  the  dragoons  from 
the  south  intended  as  a  reinforcement  to  the  horse  from  the 
north  ?  "  And  somehow  I  could  not  think  they  were.  As 
the  top-dog  spirit  in  me  put  it :  "  It  was  like  sending  Jack 
to  reinforce  me.  Quod  est  absurdum." 

Time  the  Explainer  permits  me  to  be  frank.  There  was 
this  other  side  to  my  problem  that  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  be  sure  the  Colonel's  escape  had  come  merely  by  happy 
chance.  He  was  no  party  to  contriving  it,  of  that  I  never 
doubted,  but  it  did  look  like  a  contrivance.  We  had  been 
at  the  "  Rising  Sun  "  for  six  hours  or  more.  Stone,  the 
nearest  head-quarters  of  Cumberland's  forces,  was  only  nine 
miles  south  of  it,  yet  no  attempt  had  been  made  to  follow 
the  fugitive.  No,  thought  I  again,  that's  wrong.  Weir 
was  sent  on  his  track  and  actually  found  him.  But  this  was 
as  useless,  so  it  seemed,  as  sending  twenty  dragoons,  hundreds 
being  available,  to  reinforce  a  thousand  stout  horse.  There 
was  no  proportion  between  the  ends  proposed  and  the  means 
adopted. 

If  the  handful  of  dragoons  were  not  a  reinforcement,  it 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  135 

was  a  pursuit  of  us,  and  this  posed  another  problem.  Why 
had  the  pursuit  been  allowed  to  flag  all  the  afternoon  and 
evening,  to  be  taken  up  again  far  on  in  the  night  ?  What 
fresh  fact,  if  any,  had  determined  it  ?  I  could  think  of 
none,  nor,  on  reflection,  was  one  wanted,  since  both  Master 
Freake  and  Jack  had  last  night  witnessed  to  the  worn-out 
state  of  Brocton's  horses.  Consequently  his  dragoons  would 
have  been  sent  after  the  Colonel  earlier  had  they  been  fit. 
Their  coming,  when  fit,  proved  their  anxiety  to  retake  him. 
Therefore  he  was  not  allowed  to  escape,  and  the  conclu- 
sion of  my  argument  hit  its  major  premise  clean  in  the 
teeth. 

"  Oliver,  my  boy,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  say  a  bit  of  Virgil 
and  go  to  sleep.  These  matters  are  beyond  you." 

I  picked  on  a  passage  and  started  mumbling  it  to  myself. 
It  was  a  lucky  hit,  for  when  I  had  in  solemn  whispers  rolled 
off  the  great  lines  in  the  sixth  ^Eneid  which  foretell  the 
work  and  glory  of  Rome,  I  thought  of  my  Lord  Ridgeley, 
thiever  by  cunning  process  of  law  of  most  of  my  ancient 
patrimony,  and  his  blackguard  son,  my  Lord  Brocton,  lust- 
fully hunting  the  proud,  gracious  woman  beneath,  and  I 
said  grandiosely  to  myself,  "  Rome's  destiny  is  thine  too, 
Oliver  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,  and  these  betitled 
scullions  are  the  proud  ones  you  shall  war  down/' 

The  notion  was  so  soothing  that  I  fell  asleep  again. 

I  have  leaped  over  uninteresting  but  by  no  means  unim- 
portant events.  We  were  staying  the  night  at  a  wayside 
hostel,  called  the  "  Red  Bull,"  situated  at  the  point  where 
a  cross-road  cut  the  main  road.  We  were  still  in  Stafford- 
shire, a  matter  on  which  Margaret  had  laughingly  placed 
the  utmost  importance,  though  an  urchin,  standing  by  the 
rude  signpost,  could  have  flung  a  pebble  into  Cheshire. 
Houseroom  was  of  the  narrowest,  and  I  was  tucked  away  in 
the  attics,  in  a  room  I  had  to  crawl  about  in  two-double, 
walking  upright  being  out  of  the  question.  It  was  the  grown- 
up daughter's  room,  and  she  had  been  bundled  out  to  make 
place  for  me,  a  fact  I  did  not  learn  till  it  was  beyond  need  of 
remedy.  The  lass  had  a  good  pleasant  woman  to  mother, 
but  her  father,  the  host,  was  an  ill-conditioned,  surly  runt, 
whose  only  good  point  was  a  still  tongue. 


136  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Margaret  was  in  the  room  below,  and  her  father  next  to 
her  along  a  narrow  gangway.  From  my  attic  I  got  down 
to  this  gangway  by  means  of  a  staircase  hardly  to  be  told 
from  a  ladder.  The  gangway,  just  past  the  Colonel's  door, 
became  a  little  landing  whence  three  or  four  steps  led  down 
to  a  larger  landing,  from  which  one  could  mount  up  to  the 
other  and  corresponding  half  of  the  house  or  descend  to  the 
entrance  hall  with  which  the  various  rooms  of  the  ground 
floor  connected. 

I  awoke  again  in  a  dim  dull  dawn.  Tired  of  these  bouts 
of  wakefulness  I  got  off  the  bed — for  I  was  lying  full-dressed 
even  to  my  boots — and  crept  softly  to  the  window.  I  would 
keep  watch  and  ward  for  Margaret,  as  a  true  knight  oweth 
to  do.  Then,  if  my  obscure  misgivings  were  unfounded,  I 
should  at  any  rate  have  done  my  duty. 

There  had  been  a  slight  fall  of  snow,  enough  to  cover 
the  ground  and  bring  everything  up  into  sharp  relief.  My 
window  was  a  dormant-window,  its  sill  being  about  four  feet 
from  the  eaves.  I  flung  it  open,  careful  not  to  make  a 
sound,  pushed  out  head  and  shoulders,  and  took  stock. 

I  dipped  my  fingers  in  the  snow  and  found  tin  re  was  near 
an  inch  of  it.  The  "  Red  Bull "  stood  bark  from  the  road,  and 
on  each  side  of  the  inn  proper,  outhouses  and  stables  jutted 
out  to  the  wayside.  Drawn  up  under  a  hovel  on  the  left 
was  a  huge  wagon  piled  with  sacks,  probably  of  barley 
bound  for  Leek,  a  town  renowned  for  its  ale. 

Without  was  silence  and  stillness,  as  of  the  grave,  and  it 
was  nipping  cold,  but  my  mind  was  happily  busy,  having  so 
many  delicious  moments  to  live  over  again.  If  by  some 
unhappy  chance  I  never  saw  her  again  and  lived  to  be  a 
hundred,  I  should  nevei  tire  of  my  memories.  She  had  as 
many  facets  as  Mr.  Pitt's  diamond,  as  many  tones  as  the 
great  organ  in  Lichfield  Cathedral.  To  know  her  had  en- 
riched my  life  and  opened  my  mind.  What  Pro  pert  ius  had 
said  of  Ms  Cynthia,  I  repeated  to  myself  of  my  Margaret, 
Ingenium  nobis  ipsa  pudla  est.  '  My  '  Margaret !  Well,  it 
did  her  no  harm  for  me  to  think  it,  and,  after  all,  the  sly, 
silly  babblings  of  my  under-self  could  be  shouted  down  by 
the  stern  voice  of  common  sense. 

Here,  under  the  stress  of  a  new  force,  my  thoughts  flew 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  137 

off  at  a  tangent,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  Bravo,  Romeo  ! 
You  shall  find  me  a  rare  Juliet." 

I  had,  indeed,  much  ado  to  keep  from  laughing  aloud,  as 
my  situation  was  delicious,  not  to  say  delicate.  For,  on  a 
sudden,  noiselessly  as  the  beat  of  a  bat's  wing,  two  feet  of 
ladder  had  shot  up  above  the  eaves,  and  even  now  an  ardent 
lover  was  hasting  aloft,  dreaming  of  lispings  and  kissings  to 
come.  I  mustn't  frighten  him  too  soon  or  too  much  or  he'd 
drop  off,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  fairly  on  the  slope  he  should 
sip  the  sweetness  of  lips  of  steel.  So  I  crept  back,  got  a 
pistol,  and  stood  to  the  left  of  the  window. 

I  waited  till  his  body  darkened  the  room  and  then  took 
a  furtive  look  at  him.  It  was  no  village  lover  climbing  up 
at  peep  of  dawn  to  greet  his  lass.  It  was  one  of  Brocton's 
dragoons,  one  of  the  five  who  had  been  at  the  Hanyards. 

In  a  twink  I  shot  him.  Without  a  word,  he  slithered 
down  the  tiles,  leaving  a  mush  of  blood-red  snow.  His  right 
leg  slipped  aslant  .bet ween  two  rungs  of  the  ladder,  and  his 
body,  checked  in  its  fall,  swung  round  and  dangled  over  the 
eaves. 

In  the  room  was  a  large  oaken  clothes  chest.  I  dragged 
it  to  the  light,  tilted  it  on  end,  and  jammed  it  into  the  gable 
of  the  window,  which,  luckily,  it  fitted  completely,  and  so 
blocked  any  further  attack  from  the  roof.  Snatching  up  my 
weapons,  I  tumbled  down  the  ladder,  only  to  hear  the  heavy 
tramping  of  feet  upstairs.  Standing  by  Margaret's  door,  I 
waited  until  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  first  man  came  in 
sight.  He  carried  a  lantern,  and  its  yellow  rays  lit  up  for 
me  the  ugly  face  of  the  sergeant  of  dragoons.  I  fired  my 
second  pistol  at  him,  crashing  the  lantern  to  pieces.  Down 
he  went,  whether  hit  or  not  I  did  not  know.  In  the  darkness 
I  heard  the  rush  of  a  second  man  who  came  on  so  fearlessly 
and  fast  that  he  was  far  into  the  passage  before  I  met  him 
with  a  fierce  thrust  of  my  rapier.  I  thrilled  with  the  zeal 
of  old  Smite-and-spare-not  as,  for  the  first  time,  I  felt  the 
point  of  my  rapier  in  a  man's  body,  and  drove  it  home  with 
a  yell.  Down  he  went  too,  with  a  gurgle  of  blood  in  his 
throat,  and  Margaret,  coming  out  of  her  room,  stumbled 
over  his  body  as  she  raced  after  me  along  the  passage. 

The  Colonel  was  at  the  stair-head  before  me,  but  there 


138  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

was,  for  the  moment,  no  work  for  him.  The  enemy  had 
tumbled  noisily  downstairs  into  the  hall,  and  were  collecting 
their  scattered  wits  after  their  first  rout.  To  my  regret,  the 
raucous  cursings  of  the  sergeant  showed  that  he  had  not 
been  killed  and  apparently  not  even  hit. 

"  God  damn  ye  !  "  he  yelled.  "  Ten  of  you  driven  back 
like  sheep  by  a  raw  youth.  I'll  settle  with  ye  for  it.  Think 
I  picked  ye  out  of  the  stews  and  stink-holes  of  London  to 
stand  this  ?  There  isn't  one  of  ye  with  the  guts  of  a  louse. 
I'll  take  the  skin  off  the  ribs  of  you  for  this,  damn  ye,  and 
most  of  your  pimp's  flesh  along  with  it  !  " 

"  What  sort  of  guts  was  it  brought  yow  tumblin'  down  so 
quick  ?  "  put  in  the  surly  voice  of  the  landlord.  "  Yow 
cudna  'a  come  any  faster  if  yer  blasted  yed  'ad  been  blown 
to  bits  instead  of  my  lantern." 

Some  of  the  men  laughed  at  this,  whereon  the  sergeant 
blasphemed  enough  to  make  a  devil  from  hell  shiver.  He 
cowed  the  dragoons,  but  the  innkeeper  only  growled,  "  A 
three-bob  lantern  blown  to  bits  !  Fork  out  three  bob  ! ' 

"  I'll  have  him  if  I  have  to  blow  the  house  to  bits  !  " 
vociferated  the  sergeant. 

"  Fork  out  three  bob  !  "  repeated  the  host. 

Not  a  word  had  passed  between  us  on  the  stair-head,  and 
now,  at  the  sound  of  preparations  for  a  fresh  assault,  the 
Colonel  took  each  of  us  by  the  arm  and  led  us  into  his  room. 

"  The  stair-head  cannot  be  held  against  fire  from  the 
opposite  landing,"  he  whispered. 

When  inside,  he  locked  the  door,  and  I  helped  him  pile 
the  bed  on  end  behind  it,  heaping  all  the  other  furniture 
against  the  bed-frame  to  hold  the  mattress  and  bedding  up 
against  the  door.  Margaret,  at  a  brief  word  of  command, 
had  meanwhile  kept  watch  through  the  window. 

"  That's  a  fair  defence,"  he  said  contentedly.  "  What 
are  these  devils  ?  " 

"  Brocton's  dragoons,"  said  I.  "  I've  settled  two  of 
them,  one  on  the  roof  and  one  in  the  passage." 

"  Good  lad  !  Ten  of  'em  would  be  long  odds  in  the 
open  ;  here  we  ought  to  have  the  laugh  of  them.  Load 
your  pistols !  Damme,  it's  a  bit  chilly.  Fortunately 
there's  some  warm  work  ahead." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  139 

He  stamped  up  and  down  the  room,  swishing  his  arms 
round  his  body,  and  stopping  every  now  and  again  to  make 
some  trifling  change  in  our  hurriedly  contrived  barricade. 
Margaret  stood  by  quietly  at  the  window,  and  when  I  had 
reloaded  my  pistols,  I  joined  her  there. 

The  ladder  had  been  shifted  and  now  lay  along  in  the 
snow.  There,  too,  lay  the  body  of  the  dragoon  I  had  shot, 
crumpled  up  in  his  death-agony.  A  brood  of  owls  were 
clucking  and  cluttering  about  under  the  hovel,  and  there, 
too,  leaning  against  the  rear  wheel  of  the  wain,  were  a 
lumpish  wagoner  and  our  surly  host.  The  one  was  stolidly 
smoking,  the  other  was  holding  the  battered  lantern  out  at 
arm's  length,  and  I  could,  as  it  were,  see  him  growling  to 
the  lout  at  his  side,  "  'Ew's  to  fork  out  for  this'n  ?  "  A  girl 
went  towards  them  from  the  house,  circling,  with  averted 
head,  far  round  the  dead  dragoon,  bearing  them  from  the 
kitchen  a  smoking  jug  of  ale. 

"  In  England,"  said  Margaret,  "  snow  adds  the  charm  of 
peace  and  purity  to  the  countryside.  There's  never,  I 
should  think,  enough  of  it  to  give  the  sense  of  utter  desola- 
tion and  deadness  that  it  gives  one  in  Russia." 

"  It's  so  uncertain  with  us,"  was  my  reply.  "  I've 
known  a  whole  winter  without  a  snowflake,  and  I've  walked 
knee-deep  in  it  in  May." 

The  Colonel  stopped  his  marching  and  swishing  and  came 
to  the  window. 

"  Don't  bother,  Madge,"  said  he.  "  We'U  pull  through. 
Hallo,  I  didn't  see  yon  wagon  last  night." 

He  took  out  his  snuff-box  and,  hearing  the  noise  of  the 
enemy  in  the  corridor,  walked  with  it  in  his  hand  across  to 
the  door.  He  tapped  his  box  with  accustomed  preciseness, 
but  I,  a  step  behind,  having  lingered  for  a  last  look  into 
Margaret's  eyes,  heard  him  mutter,  "  Damn  the  wagon  !  " 

"  Ho,  there  within,  in  the  King's  name,"  shouted  the 
sergeant. 

"  Ho,  there  without,  in  the  devil's  name,"  mimicked  the 
Colonel. 

"  I  want  speech  with  Colonel  Waynflete,"  shouted  the 
sergeant. 

"  Then,   seeing   that  Colonel  Waynflete  cannot  at  the 


140  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

moment  give  himself  the  pleasure  of  slitting  your  ruffian's 
throat,  you  may  speak  on,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  and  your  daughter  may  proceed  on  your  way 
unharmed  if  you  surrender.  It's  only  Wheatman  the 
farmer,  now  with  you,  that  I  want." 

He  could  be  heard  all  over  the  room  to  the  last  syllable, 
and  Margaret  quickly  left  her  place  at  the  window  and  came 
towards  us,  but  the  Colonel  in  a  stern  wLisper  ordered  her 
back.  "  How  dare  you  leave  your  post !  Watch  that 
wagon  !  "  She  crimsoned  and  returned. 

"  If  Master  Freake  were  here,  Oliver,  I  think  he  would 
remark  that  there  was  no  market  for  colonels  to-day,"  said 
her  father  to  me  with  a  wry  smile.  He  gave  the  lid  of  his 
snuff-box  a  final  tap,  opened  it,  and  held  it  out  to  me.  In  the 
sense  of  the  term  known  to  fashionable  London,  he  was  not 
a  good-looking  man,  but  as  he  stood  there,  waiting  gravely 
while  I  took  my  pinch,  he  had  the  irresistible  charm  of  the 
highest  manliness. 

"  Do  you  agree,  Colonel  ?  "  bawled  the  sergeant. 

"  I  do  not,"  he  shouted,  and  took  his  snuff  with  great 
relish. 

"  By  God,"  and  now  the  sergeant  roared  like  a  wounded 
bull,  "  I'll  have  you  all  in  ten  minutes."  Then,  as  an  after- 
thought, he  added,  "  Here,  I  say,  you  Wheatman,  do  you 
agree  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  I,  "  I'll  come  at  once."  And  I  should 
have  gone,  there  and  then,  but  for  the  Colonel,  who,  as  I 
laid  a  hand  on  the  nearest  piece  of  our  barricade,  promptly 
said,  "  I've  only  one  way  with  deserters,"  and  levelled  a 
pistol  at  my  head. 

"  For  Margaret's  sake,  sir,"  I  pleaded  in  low  tones. 
"  Let  me  go  !  "  She  had  flown  like  a  bird  across  to  us,  and 
so  heard  me. 

"  I  had  hoped  you  thought  better  of  me,  Master 
Wheatman,"  she  said  coldly,  and  went  back  to  her  watching. 

The  sergeant  heard,  or  at  least  understood,  what  had 
been  said  in  the  room.  We  heard  him  say,  "  You  know 
your  job.  Fifty  guineas  for  Wheatman,  dead  or  alive. 
Any  man  who  touches  the  girl  will  be  flogged  bare  to  the 
bones."  Then  we  heard  him  walk  off  along  the  corridor. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  141 

The  dragoons  without  made  no  attempt  on  the  door, 
and  we  joined  Margaret  at  the  window.  Hardly  had  we  got 
there  when  half  a  dozen  dragoons  dashed  out  of  the  porch 
and  ran  for  the  road.  The  Colonel  flung  the  window  open 
and  emptied  both  his  pistols  at  them,  but  they  zigzagged 
like  hares  and  the  shots  appeared  to  be  thrown  away.  In 
the  road  they  halted,  formed  a  line  in  open  order,  and  levelled 
their  carbines  at  the  window.  All  three  of  us  moved  aside, 
the  Colonel  tugging  Margaret  with  him  to  the  right  while  I 
hopped  to  the  left. 

"  Take  it  easy,  Oliver,"  he  said  very  good-humouredly. 
"  Until  they  think  of  the  wagon  we're  safe  enough  on  this 
side.  These  walls  would  almost  stand  up  to  a  carronade." 

With  a  clash  the  first  bullet  came  through  the  window  and 
knocked  a  huge  splinter  off  a  bedpost.  There  were  six  shots 
without,  and  six  bullets  spattered  in  a  small  area  opposite. 

"  That's  quite  good  shooting,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Much 
better  than  I  expected  from  such  poor  stuff." 

I  told  him  what  Jack  had  said  about  the  mixed  quality 
of  Brocton's  dragoons.  These  good  shots,  I  explained, 
were  picked  men  off  the  Ridgeley  estates,  probably  game- 
keepers and  bailiffs. 

"  Very  like,"  he  said.  "  They're  used  to  shooting  but 
not  to  fighting.  Rabbits  are  more  in  their  line." 

There  was  no  stir  in  the  passage,  and  I  wondered  what 
the  job  was  these  men  had  in  hand.  The  fusillade  at  the 
window  was  kept  up  unceasingly,  generally  in  single  shots, 
sometimes  in  twos  and  threes.  The  barricade  took  on  a 
ragged  appearance.  I  occupied  my  mind  in  thoughts  of 
Margaret.  She  was  in  the  corner,  beyond  her  father. 

The  bullets  had  by  now  nearly  cleared  the  window  of 
glass,  fragments  of  which  covered  the  floor  of  the  room. 
Through  the  cracking  and  spluttering  we  at  last  heard  the 
noise  of  a  wagon  moving.  The  Colonel  and  I  leaped  up 
and  peered  round  the  edge  of  the  window.  It  was  being 
pulled  by  two  horses,  and  was  shifted  till  it  was  exactly 
opposite  the  window,  and  to  my  surprise  some  twelve  feet 
distant.  The  sacks  made  a  firm  platform  level  with  the 
window-sill.  Flush  with  the  window  it  would  have  made 
an  admirable  means  of  attack,  but  why  the  space  between  ? 


142  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

While  the  wagon  was  being  put  in  position,  there  was  a 
cessation  of  firing.  We  saw  the  six  dragoons  from  the  road 
climbing  on  to  the  wagon,  while  as  many  again  joined  them 
from  the  inn.  The  Colonel  said,  "  Now's  our  chance  !  " 
and  fired  carefully.  One  man,  who  was  poised  on  the  rear 
wheel,  fell  into  the  road  and  hopped  round  to  the  back  of 
the  wagon  holding  his  right  foot  in  his  hand ;  another, 
already  mounted,  sprawled  full  length  on  the  sacks. 

"  That's  the  way,"  he  said,  with  much  satisfaction,  and 
stepped  aside  to  reload.  "  See  if  you  can  improve  on  it." 

By  this,  under  orders  from  the  sergeant,  two  or  three 
dragoons  were  creeping  under  the  wagon  to  fire  from  behind 
the  wheels.  I  dropped  a  man  standing  at  the  horses'  heads 
and  then,  in  the  nick  of  time  and  on  second  thoughts,  made 
sure  of  the  mare  and  hit  her  in  the  neck.  She  squealed, 
kicked,  and  plunged,  and  the  other  horse  sharing  her  fears, 
they  began  to  drag  the  wagon  off.  The  sergeant  and  two 
or  three  men  leaped  at  them  and  managed  to  quiet  them,  and 
then  took  them  out  of  the  traces  to  save  further  trouble  of  the 
sort.  The  Colonel,  meanwhile,  having  reloaded,  brought 
down  another  dragoon  with  one  shot,  and  ripped  open  a 
sack  with  another.  It  was  barley. 

For  perhaps  a  minute  the  window  had  been  as  safe  as 
her  corner,  and  Margaret  had  been  quietly  watching  the 
scene.  Now,  with  seven  or  eight  men  lying  on  the  top  of 
the  sacks,  with  a  stout  row  of  them  piled  in  front  as  a  bulwark, 
it  was  time  for  us  to  run  to  cover  again.  This  time,  of  her 
own  accord,  she  came  my  side,  and  nestled  beyond  me  in 
the  nook  between  the  wall  and  my  body. 

The  men  in  the  passage  still  made  no  sign. 

"  Slids,  Oliver,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  can't  see  this  ugly 
devil's  game  yet,  but,  whatever  it  is,  you  came  near  to  spoiling 
it.  Damme,  it  was  a  good  idea  to  pepper  the  horse.  Curse 
me  !  Where  were  my  fifty  years  of  soldiering  that  I  couldn't 
think  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  conies  from  my  being " 

The  sweetest  and  whitest  fingers  in  the  world  closed  my 
mouth,  and  Margaret,  thinking  that  I  was  on  the  verge  of 
backsliding,  whispered  in  my  ear,  "The  readiest  -  witted 
gentleman  in  England." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  143 

I  tingled  with  the  joy  of  her  touch,  and  turned  to  her 
so  that  I  might  go  on  into  the  coming  fight  with  her  last 
shade  of  emotion  burnt  into  my  memory.  A  stream  of 
lead  poured  through  the  window,  but  the  spluttering  of 
bullets  on  the  walls  of  the  room  had  no  more  effect  on  me 
than  the  pattering  of  hailstones. 

"  May  I  finish  my  sentence,  madam  ?  " 

"  Not  as  you  intended,  sir." 

"  I  can't  go  back  on  old  Bloggs'  teaching,  madam." 

She  pouted  and  frowned,  both  at  once,  and  the  Colonel 
bawled  through  the  noise  of  the  fusillade,  "  Being  what  ?  " 

"  Fond  of  Virgil,"  roared  I  back  again. 

Margaret  laughed.  Could  a  nightingale  laugh,  it  would 
laugh  as  Margaret  laughed  then. 

Before  the  music  of  it  died  away  the  sergeant  showed 
his  hand,  and  death  at  its  grizzliest  grinned  through  the 
window.  A  great  mass  of  damp,  smouldering  straw,  lifted 
on  pikels,  was  thrust  into  the  window-frame,  filling  it  com- 
pletely, and  thick  wreaths  of  dense,  foul  smoke  eddied  into 
the  room,  while  through  the  straw  the  rain  of  bullets  poured 
on,  smashing  and  splintering  on  walls  and  ceiling,  door  and 
barricade. 

The  Colonel  slashed  and  poked  at  the  straw  with  h.s 
rapier.  Telling  Margaret  to  crouch  on  the  floor,  I  crawled  on 
my  belly  and  fetched  the  bed-staff,  which  stood  in  its  accus- 
tomed corner  of  the  chimney-piece.  It  made  a  much  more 
serviceable  tool  for  the  job,  and  I  flung  it  across  to  the 
Colonel,  who  seized  it  and  worked  it  like  a  blackamoor  till 
he  was  almost  the  colour  of  one,  and  had,  to  judge  by  his 
voice  and  demeanour,  got  almost  beyond  his  German  in 
his  rage.  Asking  for  Margaret's  handkerchief,  I  tied  it 
loosely  round  her  mouth,  my  heart  near  to  bursting  as  I 
looked  into  her  calm  and  patient  face.  Then  I  lay  down 
flat  and  wormed  out  into  the  room  and,  after  a  hard  struggle, 
wrenched  off  one  of  the  rods  which  carried  the  rings  of  the 
bed-curtains.  I  remember  that,  as  I  lay  there,  writhing 
and  struggling,  I  counted  the  bullets,  eleven  of  them,  as 
they  spattered  about  me.  However,  I  got  back  to  Margaret's 
side  untouched,  and  poked  and  thrust  and  slashed  to  make 
a  hole  near  her  face  between  straw  and  window-frame. 


144  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Our  efforts  were  practically  useless.  The  straw  was 
cunningly  fed  from  below,  and  the  pall  of  smoke  was  now 
so  heavy  and  dense  that  the  fringe  of  it  was  settling  down  on 
Margaret's  tower  of  yellow  hair,  and  as  I  watched  the  rate 
at  which  it  was  falling,  I  knew  the  end  was  coming.  The 
Colonel  had  worked  with  the  energy  of  despair  to  tear  down 
the  vile  enemy  that  was  killing  us  by  inches,  and  now  suddenly 
collapsed  and  fell  like  a  log  to  the  floor.  Margaret  would 
have  crawled  to  him,  but  I  kept  her  by  main  force  against 
the  wall  while  I  wriggled  out  of  my  coat. 

"  We  have  one  chance  left,  Margaret,"  said  I.  "  Your 
father  is  only  overcome  by  the  smoke — see,  there's  no  sign 
of  a  wound  about  him — and  his  fall  is  a  godsend.  Give  me 
your  other  handkerchief  and  lie  down  flat,  face  to  the  floor 
and  close  to  the  window,  and  listen  tor  my  next  instructions." 

She  did  so  without  a  word.  I  wrapped  my  coat  loosely 
about  her  head,  and  before  I  could  close  it  in  the  smoke 
cloud  was  settling  down  on  her,  even  as  she  lay.  I  was 
nearly  done  for,  but  she  was  safe  for  a  few  minutes.  Lying 
lull  length  on  the  floor,  under  the  window,  I  tied  her  handker- 
chief to  the  end  of  the  curtain-rod,  thrust  it  through  the 
straw,  and  waved  it  about  as  vigorously  as  I  could. 

The  sergeant's  voice  rang  out.  The  firing  ceased.  The 
foul  masses  of  straw  were  removed.  Then  the  scoundrel 
came  forward  and  leered  up  at  me. 

"  Do  your  terms  hold  good  ?  "  I  shouted. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  Colonel  Waynflete  and  his  daughter  will  be  left  at 
liberty  to  go  their  way,  if  I  surrender  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  Then  in  one  minute  I'll  be  with  you,"  said  I.  Stepping 
inside  the  room,  I  first  of  all  pulled  the  Colonel  to  the  window, 
tore  loose  the  clothes  round  his  neck,  and  laid  his  head  on 
the  window-sill,  in  the  good  sweet  air.  Then  crawling  to 
Margaret,  I  unwrapped  the  jacket,  and  said  briefly,  "  Force 
some  of  Kate's  cordial  down  your  father's  throat.  Good- 
bye !  " 

I  returned  to  the  window,  clambered  out,  hung  at  arm's 
length,  and  dropped  to  the  ground.  Striding  up  to  the 
sergeant,  I  said  carelessly,  "  Your  turn  this  time,  sergeant. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  145 

To-day  to  thee,  to-morrow  to  me — it's  neater  in  the  Latin 
but  you  wouldn't  understand  it — and  all  Brocton's  dragoons 
shan't  save  your  ugly  neck." 

"  Where  the  hell's  your  coat  ?  "  he  demand  fiercely. 

A  cool  question,  indeed,  after  trying  to  suffocate  me, 
but  it  was  never  answered.  The  air  was  on  a  sudden  filled 
with  the  weirdest  row  I  had  ever  heard.  It  was  as  if  all 
the  ghosts  in  Hades  had  suddenly  piped  up  at  their  shrillest 
and  ghostliest.  This  was  followed  by  a  splutter  of  musketry, 
and  this  again  by  loud  yells.  Looking  round  I  saw  a  swarm 
of  strange  figures  sweep  into  the  yard,  half  women  as  to 
their  dress,  for  they  wore  little  petticoats  that  barely  reached 
theii  knees,  but  matchless  fighting  men  as  to  their  behaviour. 
On  they  came,  with  the  pace  of  hounds,  the  courage  of  bucks, 
and  the  force  of  the  tide. 

It  was  the  Highlanders. 

The  sergeant  fled  into  and  through  the  inn  and,  with  the 
men  from  the  corridor,  got  clean  away.  Not  a  man  else 
escaped.  Half  the  dragoons  on  the  wagon  were  picked  off 
like  crows  on  a  branch.  The  rest,  and  those  in  or  about  the 
yard,  got  their  lives  and  nothing  else  barring  their  breeches, 
and  that  not  for  comeliness'  sake  but  because  they  were 
useless.  Every  man  jack  of  them,  in  less  than  five  minutes, 
looked  like  a  half-plucked  cockerel,  and  their  captors  were 
wrangling  like  jackdaws  about  the  plunder. 

I  glanced  at  the  window.  To  my  relief,  the  Colonel  was 
already  sitting  up,  pumping  the  sweet  air  into  his  befouled 
lungs,  and  Margaret  smiled  joyously  and  waved  her  hand  to 
me.  I  was  waving  victoriously  back  to  her  when  my  attention 
was  forcibly  diverted  by  two  Highlanders,  who  collared  me, 
intent  on  reducing  me  to  a  state  of  nature  plus  my  breeches. 
There  was  no  time  to  explain,  neither  would  they  have  under- 
stood my  explanation.  One  of  them,  a  son  of  Anak  for 
height  and  bulk,  already  had  his  hands  to  my  pockets.  Him 
I  hit,  as  hard -won  experience  had  taught  me,  and  he  fell  all 
of  a  heap.  His  fellow  was  struck  with  amazement  at  seeing 
such  a  great  beef  of  a  man  put  out  of  action  so  easily,  and 
stood  gaping  over  him  for  a  while.  Recovering  himself,  he 
snatched  a  long  knife  out  of  his  sock  and  made  for  me 
murderously,  but  I  had  meantime  fished  out  a  guinea  and 


146  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

now  held  it  out  to  him.  He  took  it  with  the  eager  curiosity 
of  a  child,  looked  at  it  wonderingly,  made  out  what  it  was, 
and  then  ran  leaping  and  frisking  up  and  down  the  yard, 
holding  it  high  over  his  head,  and  shouting,  "  Ta  ginny,  ta 
ginny,  ta  bonny,  gowd  ginny  !  " 

I  was  saved  further  trouble  by  the  approach  of  one  of 
the  officers,  or,  to  speak  with  later  knowledge,  chiefs,  of  these 
wild  warriors.  He  informed  me  in  excellent  English  that 
he  had  heard  the  firing,  seen  my  parleying  at  the  window 
and  my  subsequent  surrender,  and  desired  to  know  the 
meaning  of  it  all. 

"  The  gentleman  at  the  window,"  I  explained,  "  is  Colonel 
Waynflete,  travelling  to  join  Prince  Charles.  The  lady  is  his 
daughter,  and  I  am  their  servant,  by  name  Oliver  Wheatman 
of  the  Hanyards.  These  King's  men,  belonging  to  my  Lord 
Brocton's  regiment  of  dragoons,  attacked  us ;  we  refused  to 
surrender,  and  the  rascally  sergeant  in  command  smoked  us 
out.  I  pray  you,  sir,  to  run  the  wagon  up  to  the  window 
that  I  may  hand  them  down,  since  the  door  is  heavily  bar- 
ricaded." 

It  was  done  immediately,  and  he  and  I  ran  up  to  the 
window  together. 

"  You  young  dog,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  You  surrendered 
after  all." 

"  In  strict  accordance,  sir,  with  military  usage,  I  used 
my  discretion  as  commander  of  the  party." 

"  Slids  !  "  His  grey  eyes  had  the  old  laugh  lurking  in 
them  already.  "  Commander  of  the  party  ?  " 

"  There  were  only  Mistress  Margaret  and  I  left,"  said  I. 

"  And  the  peppermint  cordial,"  put  in  Margaret. 

So  in  sheer  wantonness  of  joy  we  sought  relief  in  banter- 
ing one  another.  Then  I  introduced  the  chieftain,  who  had 
stood  there  silent  and  graceful,  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,  finely 
and  naturally  posed,  and  mutual  compliments  and  thanks 
passed  between  us.  Yet  in  that  first  minute,  with  Margaret 
and  the  Colonel  perched  on  the  sill,  and  the  Highlander  and 
I  standing  on  the  sacks  of  barley,  I  saw  another  thing 
happen,  for  the  big  things  of  life  come  into  it  with  the  swift- 
ness of  light  and  the  inevitability  of  death.  A  chieftain 
proudly  climbed  the  wagon ;  a  bond-servant  humbly 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  147 

handed  Margaret  down.  As  was  fair  and  courteous,  and 
suitable  to  my  real  position,  I  let  him  do  it,  and  aided  the 
Colonel,  who  was  as  yet  somewhat  shaky.  After  seeing  him 
safe  down,  I  rushed  up  again  and  recovered  our  weapons 
and  my  coat.  Down  once  more,  I  was  getting  into  my  coat 
when  Margaret,  who  was  talking  to  the  Highlander,  looked 
at  me  and  said  quietly,  "  Pray,  Master  Wheatman,  fetch  me 
the  domino  from  my  room  !  " 

She  said  it  simply  and  mistress-like,  and  of  course  I  shot 
off  to  do  her  bidding.  I  supposed,  as  I  went,  that  it  was  the 
white  snow  all  around  that  had  brought  out  the  blue  in  her 
eyes  so  vividly. 

In  the  inn  I  found  the  host,  the  lantern  still  dangling 
from  his  finger,  notwithstanding  his  greater  woe,  and  his 
pleasant,  placid  wife  weeping  bitterly.  Of  the  original 
twenty  guineas  of  the  Major's,  I  now  had  only  four  left,  and 
these  I  thrust  into  her  hand  as  I  passed,  and  told  her  to  be 
comforted. 

From  my  shooting  the  dragoon  on  the  roof  to  my  running 
upstairs  for  the  domino  was  in  all  not  more  than  twenty 
minutes.  I  skipped  over  the  man  who  had  fallen  to  my 
maiden  sword.  He  was  lying  between  the  door  of  the 
Colonel's  room  and  that  of  Margaret's,  and  opposite  one  of 
the  doors  on  the  other  side  of  the  passage.  Darting  into 
Margaret's  room,  I  recovered  the  domino. 

I  was  only  a  moment,  but  in  that  moment  some  one 
opened  the  door  in  the  passage  against  which  the  man  lay 
and  so  brought  him  into  the  light,  and  I  could  not  help  taking 
a  look  at  him. 

My  heart  stopped  with  the  horror  of  it ;  my  whole  being 
fell  to  pieces  at  the  agony  of  it.  I  remember  running  from 
it  as  from  the  gates  of  hell.  I  remember  reeling  on  the  stairs. 
I  remember  a  headlong  fall.  I  remember  no  more. 

It  was  Jack. 


148  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

CHAPTER  XV 
IN  THE  MOORLANDS 

I  WAS  in  bed,  there  was  no  doubt  about  that,  and  a 
strange  sort  of  bed  too,  for  it  moved  lightly  and 
deliciously  through  the  keen,  open  air  like  the  magic 
carpet  of  the  Eastern  tale.  The  bedposts  at  my  feet  were 
most  curiously  carved  into  life-like  images  of  warriors,  so 
life-like,  indeed,  that  when  the  one  on  the  right  turned  its 
shaggy  head  and  spoke  to  the  one  on  the  left,  I  was  not 
shocked  and  scarcely  surprised.  Bed  it  was,  however,  for 
mother's  soft,  smooth  hand  was  on  my  cheek,  and  under  the 
balm  of  its  touch  I  went  off  to  sleep  again. 

When  my  eyes  opened  again,  the  mists  had  cleared  out 
of  them  and  I  was  no  longer  in  the  land  of  shadows.  The 
carven  bedposts  were  Highlanders  ;  the  bed  was  a  litter 
slung  between  four  of  them  ;  the  touch  was  hers.  Somebody 
spoke,  the  Highlanders  came  to  a  halt,  and  Margaret  bent 
over  me.  Her  face  was  pale,  grave,  and  anxious. 

"  Are  you  better,  Oliver  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  As  right  as  rain,"  I  answered,  pushing  my  new  trouble 
behind  me  and  speaking  stoutly  because  of  the  whiteness  of 
her  face. 

"  Try  to  sleep  again.  You've  had  a  bad  fall,  and  there's 
an  ugly  cut  in  your  skull." 

"  Indeed,  I'll  do  no  such  thing,"  was  my  reply.  "  I 
don't  want  carrying  like  a  great  baby,  and  I  do  want  my 
breakfast.  I'm  as  empty  as  a  drum." 

"  Can  you  stand  ?  " 

"  Sure  of  it,  and  also  hop,  skip,  jump,  and,  above  all, 
eat  and  drink  with  any  man  alive.  So,  if  you  can  make  these 
men-women  understand  you,  tell  them  I'm  very  grateful, 
but  I've  had  enough." 

The  four  tousled  warriors  were  easily  made  to  understand 
what  I  wanted,  and,  stout  and  strong  as  they  were,  welcomed 
the  end  of  their  labours  with  broad  grins  of  satisfaction. 
They  lowered  me  to  the  ground,  and  immediately  Margaret's 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  149 

hands  were  outstretched  to  help  me  to  my  feet.  But  for  the 
black  death  between  us,  it  would  have  been  new  life  indeed 
to  see  the  colour  and  sunshine  creeping  back  to  her  face,  and 
to  hear  her  whispered  "  Thank  God  !  " 

My  head  was  bumming  and  throbbing,  but  nothing  to 
speak  of.  The  gash  was  behind  and  above  my  right  ear,  so 
I  must  have  somersaulted  down  the  stairs.  Margaret,  as  I 
learned  later,  had  bathed  and  bandaged  the  wound,  and, 
after  my  recovery  of  consciousness,  it  only  gave  me  the  happy 
trouble  of  persuading  Margaret  that  it  gave  me  no  trouble. 

I  stamped  and  shook  myself  experimentally,  took  a  few 
strides,  and  jumped  once  or  twice,  Margaret  watching  me  as 
curiously  and  carefully  as  a  hen  watches  her  first  chicken. 

"  Do  mind,  Oliver !  "  she  said.  "  It  bled  horribly,  and 
you'll  start  it  again." 

"  I  believe  I  needed  a  blood-letting,"  said  I. 

"  Should  you  ever  need  another,"  she  said  crisply,  "  I 
hope  you'll  take  it  in  the  usual  way.  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

I  had  steeled  myself  for  the  inevitable  question,  and  so 
answered  ruefully,  "  I  must  have  tripped  over  the  domino." 

"  If  it  were  not  your  mother's  I  would  never  wear  it 
again,"  she  said,  plucking  the  skirt  of  it  into  her  hand  and 
shaking  it  as  if  it  were  a  naughty  child.  "  I  thought  you 
would  never  come  round.  For  nearly  an  hour,  I  should 
think,  you  looked  stone-dead.  Then  you  just  opened  your 
eyes,  but  closed  them  before  I  dared  speak,  and  lay  so  at 
least  another  hour.  You  have  given  me  such  a  fright,  sir, 
that,  now  you  are  up  and  about  again,  I'm  beginning  to  feel 
I  have  a  grievance  against  you." 

"  I'm  sorry,  madam,"  said  I,  very  soberly. 

"  Now  you're  laughing  at  me,  sir,"  was  the  brisk  reply. 

The  word  made  me  shiver.  "  Laughing  " — over  Jack's 
body !  Margaret  was  in  her  stride  back  to  her  mistress-ship 
again  yet  her  eye  changed  instantly  with  her  mood  when 
she  saw  me  wince.  Indeed,  her  mind  flashed  after  my  mind 
like  a  hawk  after  a  pigeon,  but  I  dodged  the  trouble  by  looking 
casually  around  to  examine  our  whereabouts. 

We  were  following  a  track  down  a  dip  in  an  open  moor- 
land. Across  the  shallow  valley,  and  climbing  the  slope 
ahead  of  us,  was  another  small  body  of  Highlanders,  whom  I 


150  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

took  to  be  our  scouting  party.  The  sun  was  a  dim  blob  in 
the  sky,  and  I  saw  from  its  position  that  our  direction  was 
easterly.  A  joyous  hail  from  behind  made  me  spin  round, 
whereupon  I  saw  the  Colonel  on  Sultan  and  the  young  Chief 
on  the  sorrel  turning  the  brow  behind  us.  It  took  them 
a  few  minutes  to  trot  down  to  us,  and  before  they  reached  us 
four  more  wild  warriors,  our  rear-guard  apparently,  came  in 
view.  One  of  them  was  my  son  of  Anak,  astride  Margaret's 
mare,  and  so  looking  more  gigantesque  than  ever. 

"  Good  morning,  commander !  "  was  the  Colonel's 
greeting.  "  Slids  !  But  I'm  glad  to  see  you  on  your  feet 
again.  How's  the  head  ?  " 

"  It  still  bumbles  a  bit,"  said  I.  "  but,  truth  to  tell,  I'm 
thinking  more  of  my  breakfast  than  my  head.  I'm  as  empty 
as  a  drum." 

"  It's  a  guid  prognostick  to  feel  hungry  after  sic  a  crack 
o'  the  head,"  said  the  chieftain,  smiling,  and  I  thought  with 
a  twinge  what  a  handsome,  wholesome  sight  he  made. 

"  I'm  another  drum,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  but  deuce  take 
me,  Oliver,  if  I  know  how  we're  to  be  filled.  Madge  would 
have  us  start  off  with  you  at  once,  quite  rightly  too,  and 
we'd  neither  bite  nor  sup  before  we  took  the  road." 

"  And  where  were  you  taking  me  ?  "  cried  I. 

"  To  the  doctor's,"  explained  the  Colonel.  "  There's 
one  in  a  village  tucked  away  somewhere  among  these  hills, 
and  we've  a  lad  on  ahead  to  guide  us.  Colonel  Ker,  who 
commands  the  Highlanders  who  rescued  us,  gave  us  our 
friend  here,  Captain  Maclachlan  in  the  Prince's  army,  and  a 
great  chieftain  among  his  own  people  " — here  the  chief  and 
I  bowed  to  one  another — "  and  a  dozen  or  so  of  his  stout 
men  as  an  escort.  Two  plaids  were  knitted  into  a  litter, 
a  log  of  a  man  named  Wheatman  was  bundled  into  it,  and 
off  we  started  breakfast  less,  as  I  said  before." 

"  I'm  very  grateful  to  you,  Mistress  Margaret,"  said  I. 

"  Don't  be  silly  !  "  she  answered  very  sharply.  "  It  is 
no  praise  to  tell  me  I  acted  with  common  decency.  And  you 
weren't  bundled  in  !  " 

"  I  was  not  praising  you,  madam,"  I  retorted,  quick  as 
ever  to  return  like  for  like.  "  I  was  thanking  you,  and  I 
venture,  with  respect,  to  thank  you  again." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  151 

"  Bother  old  Bloggs  !  "  she  said,  suddenly  all  of  a  glow. 

"  Bloggs  ?  Who's  Bloggs  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel,  plainly 
snjoying  the  fun. 

"  A  rascally  schoolmaster,"  she  explained,  "  who  flogged 
Oliver  into  a  precision  of  speech  which  I  find  most  trying. 
But  I  must  not  miscall  the  dear  old  man,  for  I  stole  his 
supper." 

"  I  wish  he'd  flogged  him  into  precision  on  a  staircase," 
said  the  Colonel.  "  Damme,  I  am  hungry." 

"  I'm  thinking  there'll  be  a  dub  of  water  in  the  bottom 
yonder,"  said  the  chieftain,  "  and  Mistress  Waynflete  shall, 
if  she  will,  take  her  first  meal  Highland  fashion." 

As  I  firmly  declined  to  be  carried  another  yard,  the 
Highlanders  unmade  my  litter  and  resumed  their  plaids. 
In  the  trough  of  the  valley  we  found  a  streamlet  of  clear 
sweet  water,  and  our  repast  consisted  of  a  handful  of  oatmeal, 
of  which  every  clansman  carried  a  supply  in  a  linen  bag, 
stirred  in  a  horn  of  water.  It  was  not  our  Staffordshire 
notion  of  a  breakfast,  but  it  was  better  than  nothing. 

"  Water-brose  is  a  guid  enough  thing  at  a  pinch,"  said 
Maclachlan  to  Margaret,  "  guid  enough  to  take  a  big  loon 
like  yon  Donald  to  London  and  back." 

Donald,  it  appeared,  liked  an  addition  to  it,  notwith- 
standing his  chief's  praise  of  it,  for  he  was  taking  a  long  pull 
from  a  leather  bottle.  This,  he  explained,  was  usquebaugh, 
"  ta  watter  of  life,"  and  the  spice  of  poetry  in  the  description 
tempted  the  Colonel  and  me  to  try  a  dram.  The  Colonel 
probably  had  had  worse  drink  in  his  time,  but  even  he 
made  no  comment.  I  would  almost  as  lief  have  had  a  blank 
charge  fired  into  my  mouth. 

While  we  all  took  our  brose,  and  Maclachlan  squired 
Margaret,  the  Colonel  told  me  how  it  had  happened  that 
the  Highlanders  chanced  to  come  to  our  rescue  in  the  very 
nick  of  time.  My  own  trouble  is  to  get  my  tale  straight  and 
simple,  and  I  have  no  intention  of  making  a  hard  task  harder 
by  trying  to  interweave  with  the  threads  of  my  own  story 
a  poor  history  of  these  important  days.  Mr.  Volunteer  Ray 
saw  much  more  of  these  things  than  ever  I  did,  and  the 
curious  reader  may  turn  to  his  fat,  little,  brown  volume  for 
particulars.  He  was  on  the  other  side,  and  is  too  partial 


152  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

for  a  perfect  historiographer,  but  the  account  of  things  is 
there,  and  reasonably  well  done  too.  But  as  what  happened 
to  Margaret,  the  Colonel,  and  me,  happened  because  of  the 
campaign  of  the  rival  armies,  I  must  boil  down  what  the 
Colonel  told  me  if  I  am  to  make  my  tale  clear.  The  Colonel, 
to  his  credit,  as  I  think,  was  so  enthusiastic  over  all  matters 
military  that  he  was  rather  long-winded  in  his  account,  and, 
in  like  fashion  with  our  housewifely  Kate,  it  behoves  me,  so 
to  speak,  to  make  a  jar  of  jelly  out  of  a  pan  of  fruit,  which 
is  easier  done  with  crab-apples  than  words. 

According  to  the  Colonel,  one  of  the  master  maxims  of 
the  military  art  is,  "Find  out  what  the  enemy  thinks  you 
are  going  to  do,  and  then  don't  do  it."  My  Lord  George 
Murray,  the  Prince's  chief  adviser  in  military  matters,  had 
acted  on  this  plan,  and  had  given  the  go-by  to  the  Duke 
of  Cumberland  in  grand  style.  At  Macclesfield,  the  traveller 
to  London  had  choice  of  two  high  roads,  one  through  Leek 
and  Derby,  and  the  other  through  Congleton  and  Stafford. 
Leaving  the  Prince  at  Macclesfield  with  the  bulk  of  his  men, 
Murray  had  pushed  with  a  big  force  as  far  as  Congleton  on 
the  Stafford  road,  and  the  news  of  his  advance  had  made 
Cumberland  withdraw  all  his  northerly  outposts  to  his 
head-quarters  at  Stone.  It  was  the  last  body  of  horse,  routed 
out  of  Congleton,  which  we  had  watched  from  the  pines  last 
night,  racing  in  fear  and  disorder  back  to  the  main  of  their 
army.  Before  daybreak  Murray  had  sent  on  a  force  of 
Highlanders  under  Colonel  Ker  towards  Newcastle,  to  main- 
tain the  illusion  that  the  Stafford  road  was  the  one  the 
Prince  would  take,  and  the  vanguard  of  this  force,  under 
Maclachlan,  had  saved  us  at  the  "  Red  Bull."  Murray 
himself  was  marching  from  Congleton  across  country  to 
Leek,  while  the  Prince  was  marching  thither  also  from 
Macclesfield.  Murray  would  be  there  first,  and  did  not 
mean  to  wait  for  the  Prince,  but  to  push  on  as  far  as  possible 
towards  Derby.  We,  too,  were  bound  for  Leek,  where  we 
should  be  safe  at  last,  and  the  end  of  the  Colonel's  explana- 
tion came,  not  because  he  had  said  all  he  could  have  said, 
but  because  Donald  was  yelling  to  the  clansmen  in  prepara- 
tion for  our  retaking  the  road. 

Maclachlan  accepted  with  alacrity  an  offer  I  made  to  go 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  153 

ahead  and  join  our  advance.  He  ordered  Donald  to  accom- 
pany me,  giving  as  his  reason  :  "  For  he  kens  the  English 
fine  when  the  spirit  of  understanding  is  on  him,  and  ye'li 
easy  get  it  on  him  by  raxing  him  a  crack  in  the  wame,  same 
as  ye  did  back  yonder  at  the  yill-house." 

The  Highlander  maintained  the  expression  of  a  wooden 
doll  throughout  this  explanation,  but,  as  I  leaped  hard  after 
him  across  the  brook,  I  overtook  a  grin  on  his  face  that 
promised  well  for  my  future  entertainment. 

"  She  pe  recovert,"  he  said.     "  Tat  was  a  foine  shump." 

Before  I  could  reply  Margaret  was  upon  us. 

"  The  mare  is  quite  frisky.  She  thinks  me  a  mere 
fardello  after  Donald.  You're  sure  you're  all  right,  Oliver  ?  " 

"  So  near  right,  madam,  that  I  beg  you  not  to  worry 
about  me  further,"  said  I. 

"  Worry  about  you  or  worry  you  ?  " 

It  hurt  me  to  have  her  go  so  chilly  all  of  a  sudden,  but  I 
replied  frankly,  "  Both.  It  does  indeed  worry  me  to  have 
you  breakfastless  in  these  wilds  through  my  doings." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  smiling  down  on  me,  "  I  ken  fine  the 
distinction  between  water-brose  and  ham  and  eggs. " 

"  We  are  still  in  Staffordshire,"  I  said  cheerily,  "  and  I'll 
go  ahead  and  see  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Now,  Donald,  your 
best  foot  first !  " 

He  and  I  started  ahead  again,  leaving  her  waiting  for 
the  rest  of  the  party,  detained  by  some  explanation  on  the 
Colonel's  part  of  the  military  aspects  of  the  lie  of  the  land. 

"  There's  a  wheen  foine  leddies  wi'  ta  Prince,  Got  bless 
him,"  said  Donald,  "  but  when  yon  carline  gets  amangst 
'em  she'll  pe  like  a  muircock  amangst  a  thrang  o'  craws. 
She'll  ding  'em  a'." 

I  expected  that  Donald  would  cherish  ill  will  to  me  for 
my  blow,  but  in  this  I  was  wrong.  So  far  from  bearing  me  a 
grudge,  he  quite  obviously  liked  me  for  it.  He  had  a  fist, 
or  nief,  as  he  called  it,  nearly  as  big  as  a  leg  of  lamb,  and 
almost  the  first  thing  he  did  when  we  were  alone  was  to  hold 
it  out,  huge,  dirty,  and  hairy,  and  put  it  alongside  mine.  He 
scratched  his  rough  head  in  his  perplexity. 

"  At  Gladsmuir,"  he  said,  "  'er  nainsell  did  take  ten 
Southron  loons  wi'  'er  own  hant,  wi'  nobody  to  help  'er, 


154  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

an'  now  one  callant  had  dinged  'er  clean  senseless  wi'  nothin' 
but  a  bairn's  nief." 

"  It  wasn't  clean  fighting,  Donald,"  said  I.  "  Nothing 
but  a  sort  of  trick.  If  you  were  to  hit  me  fair  and  square  I 
should  snap  in  two  like  a  carrot.  Tell  me  how  you  captured 
the  ten  men  !  " 

It  was  a  longish  story,  at  any  rate  as  he  told  it,  in  quaint 
uncertain  English,  intermixed  with  spates  of  his  own  Gaelic 
as  he  got  excited  over  the  account  of  his  prowess.  One  of 
them  was  an  officer,  and  Donald  finished  up  by  ferreting  out 
of  his  meal-bag  a  magnificent  gold  watch,  lawful  prize  from 
his  point  of  view,  taken  out  of  the  officer's  fob. 

"  Ta  tarn  t'ing  was  alife  when  I  raxed  'er  out  of  'is  poke," 
he  said,  "but  'er  went  dead  sune  after.  She  can  'ave  'er 
for  a  shillin'." 

He  had  no  idea,  nor  could  I  make  him  understand,  what 
it  was  and  what  purpose  it  served.  When  it  had  run  down 
for  want  of  winding,  to  his  simple  mind  it  had  '  died.'  He 
pushed  it  into  my  hand  as  indifferently  as  if  it  had  been  a 
turnip,  and  I  promised  to  pay  him  at  Leek,  for  my  pockets 
were  empty  again  and  Margaret  had  the  bag. 

"'Er  nainsell  wad  rather  'ave  a  new  pair  o'  progues," 
said  he.  "  And  what  for  does  anybody  want  a  thing  tat 
goes  dead  to  tell  ta  time  wi'  ?  T'ere's  ta  sun  and  ta  stars, 
tat  never  go  dead." 

As  we  walked  rapidly  we  overtook  our  party  soon  after 
settling  the  matter  of  the  watch.  The  plough-lad  who  had 
been  pressed  as  guide  told  me  we  were  near  the  road  to  Leek, 
and  I  let  him  return.  We  dropped  down  to  a  rough  road 
running  our  way,  and  a  mile  or  so  along  it  the  roofs  of  a  village 
came  in  sight,  and  we  halted  till  the  main  body  came  up. 

"  What  is  it,  Oliver  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel 

"  Breakfast,  sir,"  said  I. 

We  marched  into  the  village  in  military  array.  At  our 
head  strode  Donald,  stout  of  heart  and  mighty  of  hand,  with 
two  pipers  skirling  away  at  his  heels,  and  the  clansmen 
stepping  it  out  bravely  two  abreast  behind  them.  Margaret 
came  next,  with  me  at  her  mare's  head,  and  the  Colonel  and 
Maclachlan  brought  up  the  rear. 

Our  arrival  created  as  much  stir  as  an  earthquake.     The 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  155 

Highlanders,  in  twos  and  threes,  swarmed  into  the  houses  and 
ordered  their  unwilling  hosts  to  prepare  them  a  meal.  That 
it  was  war  I  was  engaged  in  was,  for  the  first  time,  brought 
clearly  home  to  me  when  I  saw  a  fearsome  Highlander,  with 
claymore,  dirk,  and  loaded  musket,  posted  at  each  end  of  the 
village.  A  touch  of  ordinary  human  nature  was,  however, 
added,  when  the  children,  fearless  and  happy  in  their  ignor- 
ance, sidled  up  to  the  sentries  and  stared  at  them  as  eagerly 
as  if  they  had  been  war-painted  Indians  in  a  travelling  show. 

At  first,  we,  the  gentry  for  short,  intended  to  seek  accom- 
modation in  the  inn,  poor  and  shabby  though  it  looked,  and 
Donald  was  ordered  thither  to  give  instructions.  The  Colonel 
and  the  chieftain  rode  along  the  village  to  observe  how  things 
were  going,  and  this  left  Margaret  and  me  together,  and 
spectators  of  a  delightful  little  passage.  For  as  Donald 
approached  the  inn-door,  the  hostess,  a  sharp-nosed,  vixenish 
woman,  charged  at  him  with  a  very  dirty  besom  and  routed 
him  completely.  Truth  to  tell,  Donald,  who  had  the  sound, 
sweet  nature  of  a  child,  had  all  the  natural  child's  indifference 
to  dirt,  but  even  he,  long-suffering  in  such  matters  as  he  was, 
had  to  stop  to  scrape  the  filth  out  of  his  eyes.  This  gave  me 
the  chance  of  making  peace,  and  I  went  up  and  explained 
that  we  should  pay  for  everything  like  ordinary  travellers, 
good  money  for  good  fare. 

"  Oh  aye  !  "  she  said. 

"  Jonnock  !  "  said  I. 

"  You're  a  Stafford  chap,"  she  asserted. 

"  I  am,"  I  agreed,  "  and  I'll  see  you  done  well  by." 

That  settled  her,  and  Donald  was  settled  too,  for  his 
immediate  wants  were  satisfied  by  a  large  glass  of  brandy, 
and  those  more  remote  by  a  bucket  of  water  and  a  towel. 

"  Gom  !  "  said  the  virile  little  woman  to  me,  "  a  wesh'll 
do  him  no  harm.  I've  got  the  biggest  gorby  of  a  mon," 
she  went  on,  "  between  Mow  Cop  and  the  Cocklow  o'  Leek. 
He's  gone  trapesing  off,  with  our  young  Ted  on  his  shoulders, 
to  see  yow  chaps  march  into  Leek.  There's  about  a  dozen 
on  'em  gone,  as  brisk  as  if  they  were  goin'  to  Stoke  wakes. 
Fine  fools  they'll  lukken  when  they  comes  whom  to-nate." 

As  it  happened,  the  "  Dun  Cow  "  was  after  all  left  to  Donald 
and  the  pipers.  When  I  rejoined  Margaret,  she  said,  "  Pray 


156  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

help  me  down,  Oliver,  and  we'll  find  the  doctor,  and  have 
him  dress  your  head.  And,  once  out  of  Donald-'s  sight,  I'll 
have  the  laugh  that's  nearly  killing  me  to  keep  under." 

I  helped  her  down,  and  said,  "  Never  mind  doctor  !  That 
fine  old  church  yonder  must  be  well  worth  looking  into." 

"  You  will  mind,  sir,"  she  flashed.  She  beckoned  to 
Donald  to  take  charge  of  her  mare,  and  then  waylaid  a 
passing  girl,  running  from  one  sentry  to  the  other,  and  got 
her  to  show  us  the  doctor's. 

So  we  started  thither,  and  as  we  went  she  said,  "  Really, 
Oliver,  you  are  inconsiderate  at  times." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  I.     "  It's  my  head." 

I  was  angry,  not  at  her  words,  for  I  knew  she  did  not 
mean  them,  but  at  my  inability  to  see  what  the  fascinating 
jade  was  driving  at. 

"  Inconsiderate,"  she  repeated  firmly.  "  You'd  be 
content  to  be  introduced  to  the  Prince  with  a  great  swathe 
of  dirty,  blood-stained  linen  round  your  head,  regardless  of 
how  it  reflected  on  me." 

"  Reflected  on  you  ?  "  I  echoed  blankly. 

"  Yes.  We  shouldn't  match.  I  suppose  dear  old  Bloggs 
was  a  bachelor  ?  " 

"  He  was,"  said  I,  resigning  the  contest  in  despair. 

The  doctor  lived  in  a  fair-sized  stick-and- wattle  house. 
He  was  a  dapper  little  man,  with  a  cleverish,  weakling  cast 
of  face,  and  was  all  on  the  jump  with  the  turn  things  had 
taken.  He  had  just  opened  the  door  to  us,  and  was  eyeing 
us  uncertainly,  when  the  Colonel  and  the  Chief,  returning  on 
foot  from  their  inspection,  having  left  their  horses  to  be 
baited  under  the  watchful  eye  of  a  Highlander,  stopped 
beside  us. 

"  Are  you  the  doctor  ?  "  asked  Margaret  promptly,  as  if 
to  forestall  any  backing  out  on  my  part.  If  I  could  have 
joyed  at  anything,  I  should  have  been  overjoyed  at  her 
keenness  in  having  me  seen  to. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  but  very  softly. 

"  Then  please  attend  to  this  gentleman's  wound,"  she 
said. 

"  Is  he  a  rebel  ?  "  he  asked,  so  loudly  that  he  might  have 
been  talking  to  some  one  across  the  street,  and  instinctively 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  157 

I  turned  round.  There,  sure  enough,  was  the  parson,  a 
pasty,  pursy,  mean-looking  rogue,  coming  across  to  see  what 
was  doing. 

"  It's  his  head  I  want  you  to  attend  to,"  retorted 
Margaret,  "  not  his  politics." 

"  I  doctor  no  rebels,"  said  he,  louder  than  ever. 

"  Man,"  intervened  Maclachlan,  taking  a  pistol  from  his 
belt,  and  emphasizing  his  words  by  gently  tapping  its  barrel 
on  the  palm  of  his  hand,  "  if  in  ten  minutes  yon  head  isn't 
doctored  to  pairfection,  it's  your  own  sel'  will  be  beyond  all 
the  doctoring  in  England." 

"  It's  against  all  law,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  I'm  the  law  in  this  clachan  to-day,"  said  Maclachlan 
simply,  still  tapping  away  with  his  pistol.  Hearing  the 
parson  behind,  he  turned  round  and  added  drily,  "  And  the 
gospel."  Hereupon  the  parson's  face  took  on  the  appearance 
of  ill-made,  ill-risen  dough,  and  he  turned  and  slipped  off 
with  creeping,  noiseless  steps,  like  a  cat. 

"  Come  in,"  whispered  the  doctor. 

"  Ye're  a  man  o'  sense,"  said  Maclachlan,  and  pushed  his 
pistol  back  into  his  belt. 

We  all  passed  into  the  hall,  and  the  doctor  made  the  door 
carefully. 

"  That  damned  pudding-face  is  a  Whig,"  said  he,  "  and 
so,  of  course,  he's  a  Justice.  The  Squire's  a  Whig,  and  he's 
a  Justice.  Here  am  I,  well-reputed  in  the  faculty,  and  my 
wife  coming  of  the  Parker  Putwells,  one  of  the  rare  old  county 
stocks — none  of  your  newfangled  button-men  and  turnip- 
growers — and  I'm  no  Justice,  because  I'm  a  Church-and- 
King  man  of  the  old  school." 

"  They  went  out  of  fashion  with  flaxen  bobs,"  said  I. 

"  Come  on,  my  tousled  macaroni !  "  said  he.  "  There's 
nothing  the  matter  with  the  inside  of  your  head  at  any 
rate,  though  the  outside  looks  as  if  you'd  been  arguing  with 
the  parish  bull." 

"  This  is  a  verra  fine  house,"  said  Maclachlan  slowly 
and  slily. 

"  A  mere  dog-kennel,"  said  the  doctor,  "  considering 
she's  a  Parker  Putwell." 

"  And  I'm  thinking,"  said  Maclachlan,  very  thoughtfully 


158  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  that  there'll  be  some  guid  victuals  in  the  pantry  and, 
mayhap,  a  gay  wheen  bottles  of  right  liquor  in  the  cellar." 

"  Oh  aye  !  "  said  he,  taken  aback. 

"  Then  I'm  thinking  we'll  e'en  have  breakfast  here  and 
try  their  merits.  And  if  it's  a  guid  ane,  I'll  see  you  a  Justice, 
whatever  that  may  be,  when  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again. 
A  Maclachlan  has  spoken  it." 

Thedoctor  went  to  an  inner  door  and  bawled,  "  Euphemia," 
and  a  discontented  wisp  of  a  woman  answered  his  call. 

"  Madam  and  gentlemen,  my  wife,  Mistress  Snooks, 
born  a  Parker  Putwell.  Mistress  Snooks,  like  me,  will  bow 
to  your  will  with  pleasure,  nor  will  you  mislike  her  table, 
I  assure  you.  Now,  my  buck,  let's  see  to  this  crack  in  your 
head." 

He  took  me  into  his  druggery,  unwrapped  the  bandage, 
and  examined  my  wound. 

"So  ho  !  "  said  he,  "a  right  good  sock  on  the  head. 
How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

I  told  him. 

"  It's  lucky  for  you,  my  buck,"  he  said,  "  that  you've 
got  a  baby's  flesh  and  a  tup's  skull,  and  some  one  had  the 
sense  to  wash  the  cut  clean  as  soon  as  it  was  done." 

He  set  to  work  and  made  a  good  job  of  it,  with  a  pledget 
of  lint  and  strips  of  plaister,  and  meanwhile  I  speculated 
as  to  why,  in  all  these  bottles  and  jars  and  gallipots,  neither 
nature  nor  art  could  contrive  to  store  a  drug  magistral  for 
the  blow  that  had  riven  my  heart  asunder. 

"  That's  better  than  two  yards  stripped  off  a  wench's 
smock,"  he  said  at  last.  "  And  a  damnably  fine  smock  too, 
you  lucky  rascal." 

He  twittered  a  snatch  of  ribaldry  that  made  my  foot 
twitch  in  my  boot.  Behind  his  back,  I  pocketed  the  priceless 
relic,  dank  and  red  with  my  unworthy  blood,  and  followed 
him  back  to  the  company. 

We  made  a  longish  stay,  and  fared  well  at  his  table. 
The  doctor  was  a  good  enough  fellow  in  himself,  but  his  wife, 
a  salt,  domineering  woman,  lived  in  the  light  of  the  Parker 
Putwells,  and  he,  poor  devil,  in  the  shadow  they  cast.  He 
was  playing  a  double  game  too,  for  whenever  the  red- 
elbowed  serving- wench  came  into  the  room,  he  roared  his 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  159 

dissent  from  our  lawlessness,  and  drank  to  the  King  with 
his  glass  over  the  water-bottle  as  soon  as  she  went  out. 
Once  when  she  brought  us  a  rare  dish  of  calvered  roach  and, 
with  wenchlike  curiosity,  lingered  to  pick  up  a  crumb  or  two 
of  gossip,  we  had  a  snap  of  comedy,  for,  in  his  play-acting, 
he  would  take  none  till  Maclachlan,  to  keep  up  the  farce, 
thrust  a  pistol  at  his  head  and  forced  him.  Whereupon  the 
maid,  in  plucky  fashion,  threw  a  cottage  loaf  at  Maclachlan 
and  took  him  fairly  in  the  chest.  The  doctor,  to  his  credit, 
rose  to  protect  her,  but  she  braved  it  out.  She  would,  she 
averred,  lend  the  thingamy] ig  a  better  petticoat  than  the 
one  he'd  got  on.  "  If  he  mun  wear  'em,"  she  added,  "  he 
mought  wear  'em  long  enough  to  be  dacent."  The  doctor 
bustled  her  out  at  last,  palpitating  but  triumphant. 

Maclachlan  had  sprung  up  like  a  wild  cat  when  the  missile 
hit  him.  Luckily  he  was  flustered  by  the  bouncing  of  the 
loaf  on  the  table  and  off  again  clean  into  Margaret's  lap,  or 
the  ready  trigger  would  surely  have  been  drawn  in  earnest. 
Then  Margaret  promptly  took  the  edge  off  his  anger  by  saying 
with  menacing  sweetness,  "  I'm  sorry  the  fun  has  gone 
further  than  was  desirable,  but  I  will  not  have  the  girl  blamed 
for  what  was  in  her  a  brave  deed,  nor  suffer  any  unpleasant- 
ness here  on  account  of  it.  Pray  be  seated." 

This  ended  the  matter,  and  Maclachlan,  with  a  wry  smile, 
settled  down  again  to  his  fish. 

"  It  was  a  verra  guid  thing  after  a'  said,"  he  explained, 
"  that  it  wasna  my  mouth,  for  it  was  an  unco'  ding.  I'm 
half  hungry  yet,  and,  to  be  sure,  breakfast  and  broillerie  gang 
ill  together." 

It  was  well  said,  and  Margaret  rewarded  him  with  a  smile 
and  engaged  him  in  merry  conversation.  The  Colonel,  who 
had  kept  silent  during  the  trouble,  now  plied  the  doctor  with 
questions  about  the  surrounding  country. 

"  It's  a  poor  biding-place  for  a  Parker  Putwell,"  he  replied. 
"  If  there's  a  drearier  or  lonelier  stretch  in  England  than  the 
moorlands  of  Leek,  I  would  not  care  to  see  it.  I  go  miles 
on  end  about  it  to  visit  my  sick  folk,  and  mostly  in  a  day's 
riding  I  see  nobody  but  a  stray  shepherd,  a  flash  pedlar 
twanning  his  way  across  country  with  his  gewgaws,  and  now 
and  then  a  weaver  scouring  the  outlying  cottages  for  yarn." 


160  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

When  the  meal  was  over  Maclachlan  insisted  on  paying 
for  it,  and  bestowed  a  shilling  on  the  loaf-thrower.  In  theory, 
I  found,  the  clansmen  paid  for  what  they  had,  and  Donald, 
being  quartermaster  to  the  party,  was  very  busy  discharging 
his  obligations  up  and  down  the  village.  The  only  cause  of 
dissatisfaction,  but  that  not  a  slight  one,  was  his  Scots  mode 
of  reckoning,  in  which  a  pint  was  near  on  half  a  gallon,  while 
his  shilling  was  a  beggarly  penny.  It  always  took  a  whirl  of 
his  dirk  and  a  storm  of  Gaelic  to  convince  a  cottager  of  his 
accuracy,  but  he  got  through  at  last,  and  we  reformed  our 
order  of  march  and  started  for  Leek. 

This  time  I  took  the  sorrel  and  Maclachlan  marched 
beside  Margaret  on  her  mare,  for  the  Colonel  wanted  to  give 
me  an  account,  derived  from  the  young  Chief,  of  the  Prince's 
marchings  and  victories.  The  Highlanders  being  astonishing 
foot-folk,  and  the  Colonel  being  full  of  analogies  and  digres- 
sions, the  tower  of  Leek  church  came  in  sight  before  we  had 
got  the  Prince  out  of  Edinburgh. 

A  halt  was  called  to  discuss  what  was  to  be  done.  The 
Colonel  dismounted,  and  we  followed  his  example.  Margaret, 
I  noticed,  coloured  slightly  as  Maclachlan  lifted  her  down. 
She  had  been  as  cool  and  unfluttered  as  a  marble  image  when 
she  lay  in  my  arms.  Maclachlan  was  for  marching  on  into 
the  town,  and  the  doubt  on  the  Colonel's  face  rather  nettled 
him. 

"  The  considerable  town  of  Manchester,"  he  said,  "  was 
entered,  and  in  part  seized,  by  one  Scots  sergeant  and  his 
drummer.  Of  a  certainty  near  a  score  of  Maclachlans  can 
intake  yon  little  clachan." 

"  Of  a  certainty,"  retorted  the  Colonel,  "  Margaret  and 
one  of  your  pipers  would  be  enough  if  we  only  had  the  towns- 
people to  consider.  There's  no  game  much  easier  than 
walking  into  a  lion's  den  when  the  lion  isn't  there,  but  it's 
pure  foolishness  to  play  the  game  till  you're  sure  he's  not  at 
home." 

"  Lion !  What's  to  do  here  wi'  lions  f "  asked  Mac- 
lachlan. 

"  As  I'm  only  a  volunteer,"  answered  the  Colonel,  "  and 
not  yet  a  man  of  authority  under  the  Prince's  commission, 
which  you  are,  I  must  ask  your  leave  to  explain  that  our 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  161 

getting  into  Leek  is  a  military  problem.  I  grant  ye  it's  a 
little  problem,  since  it  wouldn't  matter  a  pinch  of  snuff  if  we 
marched  in  and  every  one  of  us  was  promptly  hanged  in  the 
market-place.  But  I  undertook  to  make  Oliver  here  a 
soldier,  and,  damme,  what  you  want  to  do  isn't  soldiership, 
and  he'll  only  learn  soldiership  by  mastering  the  little  prob- 
lems first." 

"  Like  sums  at  school,"  said  I,  whereat  Margaret  laughed 
aloud. 

"  Damme,  you  young  rascal,"  stormed  the  Colonel,  "  if 
I'd  got  my  commission  in  my  pocket,  I'd  put  you  under 
arrest  for  impertinence." 

"  With  great  respect,  sir,"  I  answered,  "  I  beg  to  say  that 
I  understand  that,  at  a  council  of  war,  the  youngest  officer 
gives  his  opinion  first." 

"  That's  bowled  you  over,  dad,"  said  Margaret  cheerfully. 

"  Damme,  I'll  bowl  you  off  to  Chester  to-night,"  he  re- 
torted. "  As  sure  as  a  gun's  a  gun,  you'll  ruin  Oliver.  Stop 
grinning  like  an  ape,  sir,  at  that  jade's  tricks,  and  listen  to  me." 

"  I'm  thinking,  sir,"  said  Maclachlan,  "  that  in  my 
present  responsible  position  I  would  greatly  value  your 
observations  on  the  matter  in  hand." 

This  was  a  clever  remark  so  far  as  the  Colonel  was  con- 
cerned, for  he  would  have  talked  to  a  viper  about  soldiering, 
but  Maclachlan  did  not  see,  and  I  did,  the  delicate  little 
mouth  that  Margaret  made. 

"  My  observations  are  simply  these,"  said  the  Colonel : 
"  We  do  not  know  where  Murray  is,  we  do  not  know  where 
the  Prince  is,  and  we  do  not  know  where  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire is.  Any  one  of  them  may  be  in  Leek." 

"  And  who  may  be  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  ?  "  asked  the 
chief.  "I've  never  heard  of  him." 

"  One  of  Geordie's  dandiprats,  who  has  got  together  a  big 
force  of  militia  at  Derby,  and  who,  if  he's  any  pluck,  may  have 
forestalled  us  all  by  marching  to  Leek." 

"  It's  sair  awkward,"  said  Maclachlan,  completely  taken 
aback  by  the  news. 

"  It  is  so,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  and  seeing  that  Oliver 
knows  the  rules  and  procedures  of  courts  martial,  he  shall 
deliver  his  judgment  first." 
ii 


162  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  bowing  low,  "  I  would,  with  respect, 
suggest  .  .  ." 

I  got  no  further,  for  Donald,  who  was  within  a  yard  of  my 
elbow,  suddenly  bounded  into  the  air  and  let  off  a  most 
astonishing  yell.  Then  he  ran  up  and  down,  like  a  foxhound 
after  a  lost  scent,  gabbling  away  in  Gaelic.  The  clansmen 
put  their  hands  to  their  ears,  and  their  ears  to  the  wind, 
listening  intently,  whereon  Donald  ceased  his  capering  and 
chattering,  and  called  out  to  us,  "  Ta  pipes  !  Ta  Prunce  ! 
Ta  pipes  !  Ta  Prunce  !  " 

"  Whist,  ye  auld  fule,"  said  the  chief.  "  Ye're  enough 
to  deafen  a  clap  of  thunder." 

"  I'm  telling  it  ye,  ta  pipes  !  ta  Prunce  !  "  he  babbled, 
and  then  fell  still,  and  we  all  listened. 

The  clansmen  must  have  had  ears  like  the  bucks  of  their 
own  mountains.  I  could  hear  nothing  but  the  soft  sough 
of  the  breeze  as  it  swept  o'er  the  rank  grass  of  the  moorlands, 
but  they,  Maclachlan  as  madly  as  any  of  them,  yelled  their 
slogan,  and  the  pipers  filled  their  bags  and  blew  fit  to  burst. 
Like  was  calling  to  like  across  the  wilds. 

Margaret  glowed  with  enthusiasm,  and  the  Colonel's  eyes 
sparkled  as  he  handed  me  the  box  for  the  customary  pinch 
— a  courtesy,  I  found  by  later  experience,  he  conferred  on 
very  few.  Indeed,  in  my  new  trouble,  the  kindness  and 
affection  of  the  Colonel  were  becoming  my  best  stand-by. 

"  The  great  game's  afoot,  Oliver,"  he  said. 

"  And  we'll  play  it  to  the  end,  sir." 

"  Good  lad,"  said  he. 

"  Donald,  ye  auld  skaicher,"  said  Maclachlan,  "  get  your 
bairns  agait.  The  Maclachlans  are  going  to  be  last,  where 
they  should  be  first,  at  the  intaking  of  a  town,  but  the  Prince, 
God  bless  him,  will  think  me  balm  in  Gilead  when  he  sees 
the  reinforcements  I  bring." 

He  was  in  high  feather,  and  it  interested  me  to  watch  in 
another  the  tonic  effect  of  Margaret's  presence.  I  took  no 
advantage  of  my  capacity  as  her  body-servant,  but  leaped 
into  my  saddle  and  sat  the  sorrel  like  a  wooden  image  as  he 
dodged  about  to  get  her  horsed  again  and  ready  for  the  road. 
He  was,  indeed,  fit  to  serve  a  queen  ;  the  Highland  fashion 
marvellously  well  set  off  the  clean,  strong  lines  of  his  body, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  163 

and  the  single  eagle's  feather  in  his  bonnet  was  the  right 
sign  to  be  waving  over  him.  The  top-dog  spirit  was  fast 
oozing  out  of  me,  and  I  sat  there  sourly  dusting  the  skirts 
of  my  poor  country-tailor-made  coat. 

The  men  were  lined  up  on  the  rough  moorland  track. 
Donald  at  their  head,  and  the  two  pipers  filling  their  bags 
and  fingering  their  chanters  behind  him.  Maclachlan  took 
Margaret's  rein  and  began  to  lead  her  mare  up  the  slope 
of  the  path,  but  the  Colonel  called  to  him  and  diverted  his 
attention,  and  she  stopped  beside  me. 

"  Oliver,"  she  said,  "  you  must  let  me  have  your  coat  for 
half  an  hour  when  we  are  settled  in  the  town,  so  that  I  can 
mend  it.  The  holes  in  it  make  me  shiver  every  time  I  see 
them." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  madam,"  said  I,  still  dusting  away, 
lest  she  should  see  how  my  hand  trembled. 

"  Oliver !  " 

She  forced  me  to  look  at  her  now,  she  spoke  so  peremp- 
torily, and  when  the  blue  eyes  met  mine  they  were  so  clear 
and  intent  that  I  feared  she  might  read  my  secret. 

"  Smile  !  " 

Smile  !  I  was  to  smile,  was  I  ?  And  when  our  Kate  got 
the  news  at  the  Hanyards,  the  smile  would  die  out  of  her 
eyes  for  ever,  for  Jack,  dear,  splendid  Jack,  was  the  weft 
that  had  been  woven  into  the  warp  of  her  being. 

"  I  do  not  smile  to  order,  madam,"  said  I. 

She  flicked  the  mare  sharply  and  cantered  up  to  the 
level,  whither  Maclachlan  raced  after  her  with  the  speed  of 
a  hound. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
BONNIE  PRINCE  CHARLIE 

ON  our  way  into  the  town  a  thing  happened  which 
greatly  shook  me,  being,  as  I  was,  nothing  in  the 
world  but  a  small  farmer  who  had  never  seen  the 
wars.     At  a  point  where  the  rough  road  cut  across  a  fold  in 


164  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

the  moorlands  we  saw,  half  a  mile  to  our  right,  a  herd  of  cattle 
being  lashed  and  chivvied  away  to  the  remoter  crannies 
among  the  hills  by  a  throng  of  sweating  hinds  and  farmers. 
Had  it  happened  our  way,  thought  I  broodily,  Joe  and  I 
would  be  there  among  the  like,  saving  our  own  stock  from 
the  marauders.  Donald  looked  at  them  longingly,  but  our 
haste  brooked  no  delay,  and  besides,  as  he  put  it  to  me  later, 
"  It's  a  puir  town,  but,  after  a'  said,  better  than  a  wheen 
lousy  cattle,  for  I've  come  by  a  fine  pair  o'  progues  for  a 
twa-three  bawbees." 

Leek  was  as  full  of  Highlanders  as  a  wasp-cake  is  of 
maggots,  and  still  they  were  swarming  in.  Donald  and  the 
clansmen,  indifferent  to  the  crush  and  hubbub,  clave  a  way 
for  us  to  the  market-place,  where,  on  the  Colonel's  advice, 
they  were  dismissed  to  beat  for  billets.  I  then  took  charge 
and  led  my  companions  across  to  the  "  Angel,"  where  the 
throng  was  so  dense  that  they  might  have  been  giving  the  ale 
away. 

To  get  the  horses  stabled  and  baited  was  easy  enough, 
for  few  of  the  Highlanders  rode  south,  although  it  was 
different  going  north  again.  Then,  leading  my  companions 
into  the  yard.  I  pushed  into  the  inn  and,  by  good  hap,  lighted 
on  the  host,  nearly  out  of  his  five  wits  with  trying  to  under- 
stand  one  word  of  English  in  a  score  of  Gaelic. 

"  Hello,  surry  !  "  said  I. 

"  Com !  "  said  he,  "  Staffordsheer  at  last." 

"  I've  heard  a  lot  about  Leek  ale,"  said  I.  "  Draw  me 
a  mug  of  it !  " 

He  brought  it  in  a  trice,  and  his  face  beamed  with  honest 
pride  as  he  said,  holding  it  up  between  my  eyes  and  the 
light,  "  What  do  you  think  o'  that  for  colour  and  nap  ? 
Damn  my  bones  !  None  of  your  London  rot-gut,  master, 
but  honest  Staffordsheer  ale.  Damme,  you  can  fairly  chew 
the  malt  in  it." 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  guinea  I've  drunk  better,"  said  I,  with 
the  aleyard  at  my  lips. 

"  I'd  bet  on  my  own  ale,"  said  he,  "  if  the  '  Angel '  was 
full  of  devils  let  alone  petticoats.  An',  as  between  friends, 
y'r  'onour,  win  or  lose,  dunna  tell  my  missus  you've  'ad 
better  ale  than  ourn." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  165 

I  drank  off  his  ale  and  said  judiciously,  "  No,  I  haven't. 
That's  the  best  ale  I've  ever  drunk,"  and  handed  him  his 
guinea. 

"  This'n's  a  bit  of  fat  along  with  the  lean,"  said  he,  spinning 
the  guinea  up  in  the  air,  and,  countrywise,  spitting  on  it 
for  luck.  "  Be  there  owt  I  can  do  for  y'r,  sir  ?  A  gentleman 
as  knows  good  ale  when  he  drinks  it  shudna  be  neglected 
for  a  lot  of  bare-legged  savages  that  'anna  as  much  judgment 
in  beer  as  a  sow  'as  in  draff."  He  leaned  towards  me  and 
added  in  a  whisper,  "  I'm  giving  ?em  bouse  I  wudna  wesh 
my  mare's  fetlocks  in,  an'  they're  neckin'  it  as  if  it  was  my 
rale  October." 

"  It  was  thundery  in  the  summer,"  said  I  gravely,  whereat 
he  grinned  intelligently. 

"  Y'r  'onour's  up  to  snuff,"  said  he.  "  Be  there  owt  I 
can  do  for  y'r,  sir  ?  "  . 

"  Fetch  the  missus,"  said  I,  "  and  we'll  talk." 

The  hostess  came.  Her  cheeks  were  brown  as  her  own  ale, 
and  we  talked,  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  for  at  least  ten  minutes. 

In  the  end  I  snapped  up  the  best  parlour  overlooking  the 
square  for  Margaret's  use,  and  bedrooms  for  each  of  us, 
paying  a  substantial  bargain-penny,  for  Mistress  Waynflete 
had  handed  me  back  the  bag  of  gold  Master  Freake  had 
given  me.  It  would  be  necessary,  I  found,  to  oust  two  or 
three  bare-knees  who  had  marked  them  for  their  own,  but 
that  could  easily  be  done,  if,  as  was  unlikely  to  be  the  case, 
they  were  sober  enough  at  night  to  crawl  bedwards.  These 
arrangements  made,  I  pushed  out  and  fetched  in  Margaret, 
who  was  very  grateful  for  what  I  had  done,  and  went  off 
to  her  room,  while  we  three  men  took  our  stand  on  the 
bricked  causeway  and  watched  the  doings  in  the  square. 

We  saw  two  or  three  battalions  swing  into  the  square 
from  the  Macclesfield  road,  and  the  Colonel  scanned  them 
keenly,  and,  as  I  thought,  anxiously.  Even  to  my  untrained 
eye  they  were  a  mixed  lot ;  the  bulk  of  them,  to  be  sure, 
were  stout,  active,  well-armed  fighting  men,  who  marched 
in  fair  order,  six  or  eight  abreast ;  but  there  were  numbers 
of  oldish  men  and  boys  among  them,  and  many  were  but 
indifferently  armed. 

"  What  do  you  number  all  told  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel 


x66  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Maclachlan  answered  in  French.  There  was  now  no 
mistaking  the  gravity  in  the  Colonel's  face,  and  he  took 
snuff  so  thoughtfully  that,  for  the  first  time,  he  forgot  me. 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  lad,"  said  he,  recovering  himself 
and  thrusting  out  the  box  towards  me.  "  I  hope  there's  a 
tobacco-man  in  the  town  who  sells  right  Strasburg.  I'm 
running  out,  and  rappee  and  Brazil  are  mere  rubbish  to  the 
cultivated  palate."  Then,  looking  around  the  square,  he 
added  cheerily,  "  Quite  a  show  for  the  townsmen  !  " 

Just  in  front  of  us,  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  gutter, 
was  a  little,  ancient,  distinguished  dame,  who  had  been 
watching  the  scene  with  quick,  avid  eyes.  She  turned  her 
fierce,  scornful  face  up  to  the  Colonel,  and  said,  "  Yes,  sir  ! 
You  are  right.  It's  a  show,  just  a  show,  for  the  townsmen. 
Yet  I  remember  that,  thirty  years  ago,  the  fathers  of  these 
spiritless  curs  were  as  eager  for  the  cause  as  is  the  eagle  for 
his  quarry." 

"  So,  madam,"  said  the  Colonel  very  gently. 

"  So,  indeed,"  she  returned.  "  But  now,  in  their  accursed 
grubbing  for  money,  they  have  rooted  up  every  finer  instinct, 
and  they  think  only  of  their  tradings  in  silks  with  the  Court 
ladies  of  London.  Better  a  fine  gown  sold  to  godless  Caroline 
than  a  stout  blow  struck  for  God-anointed  James." 

She  was  beyond  doubt  a  lady  of  quality,  but  fallen  on 
poverty  and  now,  worst  of  all  to  her,  on  evil,  faithless  days. 
As  she  stopped,  short  of  breath  with  her  sharp  speaking, 
for  she  was  very  ancient,  a  mean  lout  of  a  man  edged  himself 
up  against  her  to  get  a  better  position  for  watching  the 
arrival  of  another  body  of  clansmen.  In  a  fierce  access  of 
rage  she  struck  him  with  the  ebony  stick  on  which  she  leaned 
and,  almost  hissing  the  words  at  him,  said,  "  Back  to  your 
buttons  and  your  tassels,  Thomas  Ashley,  and  get  grace  by 
thinking  on  your  worthy  father  !  " 

The  man  sidled  off,  and  she  continued,  addressing  the 
Colonel,  "  In  the  fifteen  his  father  was  one  of  us,  and  suffered 
worthily." 

"  For  what,  madam  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  For  the  cause,"  she  replied. 

"  For  what  particular  service  to  the  cause,  madam  ?  "  I 
persisted. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  167 

"  He  was  zealous  against  the  schismatics,  sir,"  she  said 
boldly. 

"  Madam,"  was  my  reply,  "  if  the  zeal  of  any  one  of  us, 
townsman  or  clansman,  takes  the  same  form  this  day,  I  shall 
certainly  wring  his  neck.  We  can  fight  for  Charles  without 
burning  chapels." 

"  Smite-and-spare-not  would  subscribe  to  that  doctrine," 
said  Margaret,  thrusting  her  way  gently  between  the  Colonel 
and  me,  and  hooking  a  hand  round  an  arm  of  each  of  us. 
Putting  her  lips  to  my  ear,  she  whispered  merrily,  "  Push 
of  pike  and  the  Word,"  and  then  looked  so  winningly  at  me 
that  the  black  shadow  lifted,  and  I  smiled  back  at  her. 

And  now  the  craning  of  necks  at  the  angle  where  the  great 
road  curved  into  the  square,  betokened  something  out  of  the 
ordinary,  which  turned  out  to  be  the  arrival  of  the  Prince's 
life-guards.  They  were  splendid,  well-mounted  fellows, 
clothed  in  blue,  faced  with  red,  and  scarlet  waistcoats  heavy 
with  gold.  With  them  were  the  leading  chiefs  of  the  army, 
and  I  heard  Maclachlan  reeling  off  their  names  and  qualities 
in  the  Colonel's  ear.  The  guard,  in  number  some  sixscore, 
formed  three  sides  of  a  square  and  sat  their  horses,  while 
one  of  the  leaders  proclaimed  James  and  took  possession 
of  the  town. 

The  cheers  of  the  clansmen  died  away,  only  to  be  renewed 
more  loudly  and  proudly  when  another  column  swept  into 
the  square.  Here,  indeed,  were  men  apt  for  war  and  the 
battle,  six  abreast  and  a  hundred  files  deep,  with  a  dozen 
pipers  piping  their  mightiest,  and  a  great  standard  flinging 
to  the  breeze  its  proud  Tandem  triumphans.  At  their  head 
strode  a  tall  young  man,  very  comely  and  proper,  with  a 
frank,  resolute,  intelligent  face.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
Highland  fashion,  with  a  blue  bonnet  topped  with  a  white 
rosette,  a  broad,  blue  ribbon  over  his  right  shoulder,  and 
a  star  upon  his  breast.  The  thronging  thousands  of  clans- 
men burst  into  thundering  volleys  of  Gaelic  yells,  the  waiting 
leaders  bared  their  heads  and  bowed,  and  I  knew  it  was  the 
Prince. 

After  a  short  consultation  with  his  intimate  counsellors, 
Charles  walked  almost  directly  towards  us,  making,  as  it 
seemed,  for  the  fine  house  that  neighboured  the  "  Angel." 


J68  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Even  the  townsmen,  as  he  approached,  raised  their  hats 
and  cheered  a  little,  for  he  was  on  sight  a  man  to  be  liked. 
When  I  hear  sad  tales  of  him  now,  I  think  of  him  as  I  saw  him 
then,  and  as  I  knew  him  in  those  few  stirring  days  when  hope 
spurred  him  on,  and  the  star  of  his  destiny  had  not  yet 
climbed  to  its  zenith.  I  come  of  a  stock  that  sets  no  value 
on  princes,  and  I  would  not  now  lift  a  hand  to  snatch  the 
Stuarts  out  of  the  grave  they  have  dug  for  themselves, 
but  it  is  due  to  him,  and,  above  all,  due  to  the  chiefs  and 
clansmen  who  followed  and  fought  and  died  for  him,  to  say 
that  the  Bonnie  Charlie  I  knew  was  every  inch  of  him  a  man 
and  a  prince  to  his  finger-tips. 

Maclachlan  darted  out  and  dropped  on  his  knee  before 
Charles,  who,  with  kindly  impatience,  seized  the  shoulder- 
knot  of  his  plaid,  haled  him  to  his  feet,  and  plied  him  with 
a  throng  of  questions.  At  some  reply  made  by  the  young 
chief,  Charles  turned  his  eyes  on  us,  and,  easily  picking  out 
the  Colonel,  made  for  him  with  eager  outstretched  hands. 
For  his  part,  the  Colonel  stepped  clear  of  the  crowd  on  the 
causeway  and  stood  at  the  salute.  He  was,  I  thought,  the 
most  self-possessed  person  in  the  square,  and,  indeed,  was 
taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  as  soon  as  the  formality  was  over, 
while  Margaret  was  red  and  white  by  turns,  and  I  shook  at 
the  knees  as  if  expecting  the  Prince,  in  the  manner  of  old 
Bloggs,  to  call  me  out  and  thrash  me  soundly. 

The  joy  of  the  Prince  at  being  joined  by  Colonel  Wayn- 
flete  was  overflowing. 

"  My  Lord  Murray  has  talked  of  you,"  I  heard  him  say, 
"  until  I  felt  that  you  were  the  one  man  in  England  that 
mattered,  and  now  here  you  are.  I  must  tell  Sheridan  and 
all  of  them  the  good  news." 

He  turned  off  and  called  to  a  group  of  men  near  him,  and 
several  of  them  came  up  and  were  made  known  to  the  Colonel 
After  more  handshaking  and  chatting,  the  eager  Prince 
caught  the  Colonel  by  the  arm  and  was  for  dragging  him  off 
into  the  house  destined  for  his  lodging,  but  the  Colonel  in  his 
turn  resisted  and  led  him  towards  Margaret. 

"  My  daughter,  sir,"  he  said,  briefly  and  proudly. 

Off  came  the  bonnet,  and  Charles  bowed  low  and  greeted 
her  with  very  marked  courtesy. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  169 

"  Your  prince,  madam,"  he  said,  "  but  also  your  very 
humble  servant.  My  Court  is  a  small  one,  and  you  are 
as  important  and  welcome  an  addition  to  it  as  is  your 
distinguished  father  to  my  army.  Swounds,  Colonel," 
turning  to  him  with  a  merry  smile,  "  I  shall  put  a  flea  in  his 
lordship's  ear  when  I  see  him  at  Derby.  He  never  so  much 
as  mentioned  your  daughter.  Man,  one  might  as  well  talk 
of  stars  and  forget  Venus  !  " 

"  There  is  this  excuse  for  him,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel, 
very  sedately,  "  that  on  the  only  occasion  on  which  my  Lord 
Murray  saw  her,  which  was  at  Turin  in  1738,  she  was  a 
whirlwind  of  arms  and  legs,  long  plaits  and  short  petti- 
coats." 

"  Whereas  now  she but  I  will  reserve  my  opinion  for 

the  shelter  of  a  fan  in  a  secluded  corner  at  my  next  little 
Court."  Then,  very  abruptly,  fixing  his  eyes  on  me,  all  of  a 
swither,  with  my  milk-stained  cap  in  my  hand,  "  And  whom 
have  we  here  ?  " 

Whereupon,  strangely  enough,  forgetting  all  courtliness, 
Margaret,  the  Colonel,  and  Maclachlan  fell  over  one  another, 
so  to  speak,  in  telling  the  Prince  who  I  was.  For  a  few 
seconds  there  was  a  gabble  of  introductions,  which  made  me 
feel  hot  and  foolish. 

"  One  at  a  time,"  laughed  the  Prince,  "  and,  of  course, 
Mistress  Waynflete  first." 

"  Your  Royal  Highness,"  said  Margaret,  "  this  is  my 
splendid  friend  and  gallant  comrade,  Oliver  Wheatman." 

"  Enough,  and  more  than  enough,  for  a  poor  Prince 
Adventurer.  Give  me  but  the  leavings  of  your  friendship 
and  comradeship,  Master  Wheatman,  and  I  shall  be  be- 
holden to  you.  And  now,  excuse  us,  madam,  I  have  much 
to  say  to  your  father." 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  crave  a  little  boon." 

"  You  begin  well,"  he  said,  and  added,  after  a  little  laugh, 
"  With  aU  my  heart." 

"  Here  at  hand,"  said  I,  "  is  an  ancient  lady  who  has 
faced  this  rough  crowd  and  this  bitter  weather  to  see  the 
Prince  of  her  heart's  desire.  She  is  brave  as  a  lion  for  you, 
but  too  modest  to  do  more  than  stand  and  pray  for  you." 

And  then  he  did  one  of  those  princely  things  that  made 


170  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

rough  men  willing  to  be  cut  down  in  swathes  for  him.  He 
strode  up  to  her  and  seized  her  trembling  hands. 

"  Nay,  kneel  not,  dear  lady,"  he  said,  putting  an  arm 
around  her  to  restrain  her. 

"  God  bless  your  Royal  Highness,  and  give  you  victory," 
she  said  brokenly.  "  This  is  the  hour  I  have  prayed  for  daily 
these  thirty  years,  and  I  thank  God  for  giving  us  a  Prince 
so  worthy  of  an  earthly  throne.  The  Lord  shall  yet  have 
mercy  upon  Jacob." 

"  I  thank  God,"  said  Charles,  "  for  giving  me  a  friend 
like  you." 

His  green  plaid  was  looped  up  at  his  shoulder  by  a  fine 
brooch,  a  cairngorm  set  in  a  silver  rim.  This  he  took  off, 
and  pinned  it  on  the  trembling  woman's  breast. 

"  Wear  this  from  me  and  for  me,"  he  said,  speaking  with 
great  feeling.  Tears  were  standing  in  Margaret's  eyes,  there 
was  a  big  lump  in  my  throat,  and  the  Colonel  was  wasting 
precious  Strasburg  on  the  cobbles  in  the  square.  When  the 
Prince  had  pinned  it  there,  he  doffed  his  bonnet,  bent  grace- 
fully down,  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  and  so  left  her.  The 
standers-by  now  cheered  in  earnest,  and  the  ancient  dame 
fell  on  her  knees  in  prayer.  When  she  rose  she  plucked 
her  robe  around  her,  safeguarding  her  royal  gift  in  her 
withered  hands,  and  was  for  timidly  stealing  away. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  think  you  are  alone." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  whispered. 

I  offered  her  my  arm,  saying,  "  Allow  me  to  escort  you  to 
your  home  ?  " 

The  sharp  eyes  swept  over  me  from  my  belt  upward,  and 
then,  without  a  word,  she  placed  her  arm  in  mine.  I  looked 
around  to  bow  to  Margaret  before  starting,  but  she  had  dis- 
appeared. 

We  soon  reached  her  house  or,  rather,  cottage,  which  was 
in  a  street  behind  the  west  side  of  the  square.  She  was  too 
tottery,  too  dazzled,  too  afflated  to  speak  on  the  way  thither, 
but,  at  the  door,  when  with  a  bow  I  was  intending  to  leave 
her,  she  bade  me,  in  a  madam-like  way  that  cut  off  debate  or 
refusal,  to  enter  with  her. 

Plain  to  the  casual  eye,  it  was  the  home  of  decayed 
gentility.  Here  would  be  refined  eating  of  a  dinner  of  herbs, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  171 

solaced  by  talk  of  prideful  yesterdays.  You  saw  it  in  the 
few  things  that  still  kept  their  grip  on  the  past  :  on  the  wall 
an  old,  black  painting  of  a  knight  in  ruff  and  quilted  doubtlet ; 
a  pounce-box  and  a  hawking-glove  on  the  chimney-piece, 
and  above  it  an  oval  scutcheon,  with  a  golden  eagle  naissant 
from  a  fesse  vert.  And  hope  was  ever  new-born  here,  but  it 
was  the  hope  centred  in  the  Virgin-Mother,  posed  in  ivory 
over  a  wooden  prie-Dieu.  Nor  did  I  feel  that  I  had  shifted 
from  my  familiar  moorings  as  I  bowed  my  head  when  she 
knelt  in  prayer. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  when,  with  a  happy  face,  she  rose  and 
turned  and  thanked  me,  "  it  is  in  your  power  to  do  me  a  great 
kindness." 

"  I  shall,  then,  most  surely  do  it." 

"  I  ask  you  to  pray  for  the  soul  of  John  Dobson." 

"  He  was  your  friend  ?  "  she  said  gently. 

"  My  friend  from  boyhood,  madam,  and  this  morning 
I  slew  him." 

There  was  silence  for  a  space.  Then  she  said,  "  I  will 
pray  daily  for  the  soul  of  your  friend,  and  for  you  that  God 
will  have  mercy  upon  you  and  give  you  peace.  We  women, 
who  can  only  pray,  do  not,  I  fear,  realize  how,  for  our  men, 
the  facts  of  life  seem  to  make  havoc  of  our  creeds." 

"  You  are  right,  madam,"  I  said  sombrely.  "  For  me 
to-day  there  is  no  God  in  heaven." 

"  Yet  the  morrow  cometh,"  she  replied  confidently.  "  It 
has  come  for  me.  My  mind  goes  back  to  the  time  when  the 
evil  began  that  our  glorious  Prince  is  now  uprooting.  In 
eighty-eight,  when  I  was  a  maid  of  some  twenty  Junes,  not 
uncomely  as  I  remember  myself  in  my  mirror,  though  not 
comparable  with  your  sweet  and  splendid  mistress,  we,  then 
the  ancient  Hardys  of  Hardywick,  gave  our  all  and  lost  our 
all  for  the  cause.  Yon  scutcheon  then  hung  in  a  noble  hall. 
I  have  looked  at  it  with  pride  and,  God  be  thanked,  without 
regret,  during  nearly  sixty  years  of  loneliness  and  poverty, 
but  I  shall  die  rich  and  friended  in  the  possession  of  this." 

She  lifted  the  brooch  to  her  lips  and  kissed  it,  and  then, 
poor  soul,  broke  into  a  fit  of  coughing  that  racked  her  thin 
frame.  A  comely  serving-woman  rushed  in  to  her  aid,  and 
together  we  seated  her  near  the  fire  and  wrapped  a  shawl 


172  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

around  her.  She  seemed  as  one  who  slept  with  half-shut 
eyes  and  dreamed. 

"  She's  of  n  tuk  like  this'n,"  whispered  her  woman.  "  As 
lively  as  a  lass  at  a  wedding  for  an  hour  maybe,  and  then 
dreamy  and  dead-like  for  hours  at  a  stretch.  She's  seventy- 
six  come  June,  but  I  dunna  think  she'll  live  to  see  it,  and 
to  be  sure,  God  bless  her,  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her  broken 
heart  at  rest." 

She  put  a  smelling-bottle  to  her  mistress's  nose,  and 
bathed  the  white  lips  with  eau-de-Luce. 

"  I  love  her  no  end,"  she  said  simply. 

It  was  time  to  go.  I  dropped  on  my  knee  and  kissed  the 
fair,  thin,  wrinkled  hand.  At  the  touch  of  my  lips  she  spoke 
again  : 

"  Good-bye,  Harold,  my  beloved !  The  God  of  all  good 
causes  go  with  thee  !  " 

She  was  back  in  the  long-ago  with  her  lover  at  her  knee, 
sending  him  off  to  fight  for  the  cause,  and  the  ringless  finger 
showed  that  he  had  never  come  back. 

I  stole  out  of  the  room  with  a  mist  in  my  eyes. 

When  I  got  on  the  corner  by  the  Prince's  lodging,  the 
first  thing  that  caught  my  eye  was  a  calash  drawn  up  in  the 
middle  of  the  square,  with  two  very  elegant  ladies  in  it,  and 
a  sprig  of  a  blackamoor  in  green  breeches  and  yellow  doublet 
at  the  horse's  head.  Margaret  and  Maclachlan  were  standing 
by,  and  a  merry  rattle  of  conversation  was  going  on  between 
them  and  the  new-comers,  though  Margaret,  her  quick  mind 
interested  in  the  vivid  scenes  around,  kept  turning  her  head 
to  sweep  the  square  with  her  eyes. 

I  had  always  felt  and,  for  the  most  part  I  trust,  observed 
the  difference  between  us,  but  it  struck  me  now  like  a  blow 
between  the  eyes.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  Margaret,  for  all 
her  grey  domino,  was  the  mistress  of  the  gay,  courtly  group  ; 
easy,  too,  to  catch  the  meaning  of  the  eyes  the  stranger 
ladies  made  at  one  another  as  they  noted  with  amusement 
the  young  Chief's  infatuation.  Well,  he  was  there,  and  I  was 
here,  by  right.  I  said  so  to  myself  very  savagely,  that  there 
should  be  no  mistake  about  it,  but  I  must  admit  to  a  sour 
taste  in  my  mouth  as  I  pushed  into  a  passing  group  of  clans- 
men, and  then  dodged  behind  a  clump  of  ammunition  wagons. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  173 

and  so  got  into  a  side-alley  unseen  by  those  searching 
eyes. 

I  came  to  an  ale-house  where  I  managed  very  well,  for  all 
that  it  had  its  full  share  of  clansmen  stuffed  into  it,  making 
a  square  meal  of  bread  and  cheese  and  cold  bacon,  washed 
down  with  excellent  ale.  I  made  a  point  of  marking  myself 
off  as  an  Englishman  by  paying  for  my  meal  in  the  English 
fashion. 

Sallying  forth,  and  still  avoiding  the  square,  I  roamed 
round  the  little  town,  distracting  my  mind  by  forcing  an 
interest  in  what  was  going  on.  The  Highlanders  were  happy, 
noisy,  and  full  of  confidence — not  unjustly,  for  so  far  they 
had  played  ninepins  with  the  Royal  troops.  Everywhere 
they  were  hard  at  it,  sharpening  dirks  and  claymores  and 
furbishing  muskets,  and  such  of  their  talk  as  I  could  under- 
stand was  all  of  battle  imminent.  In  the  churchyard  I 
found  a  number  of  them  practising  shooting,  with  a  grand 
old  cross  as  a  target.  They  had  chipped  it  somewhat  already. 
I  cursed  them  roundly  and  then  bargained  it  off  at  the  price 
of  a  few  shillings.  They  turned  their  attention,  with  hopeful 
grins,  to  the  brass  weathercock  on  the  church  tower,  which 
I  did  not  deem  worth  saving.  Moreover,  it  was  a  better 
mark,  and  good  shooting  was  to  be  encouraged. 

I  mooned  around  for  an  hour  or  so,  very  miserable.  If 
my  mind  was  idle  a  moment,  I  saw  Jack's  body  lying  in  the 
dim-lit  passage  and  the  calash  in  the  market-square. 

Tired  of  watching  the  Highlanders,  I  suddenly  struck 
out  for  the  "  Angel,"  intending  to  see  how  the  horses  were 
doing,  a  necessary  task  which  I  was  to  blame  for  neglecting 
so  long.  I  was  going  at  a  great  pace  along  by  the  shops  on 
one  side  of  the  square  and,  in  heedlessly  passing  a  mercer's, 
had  to  skip  aside  to  avoid  a  finely  dressed  lady  coming  out 
of  the  door,  with  the  shopmaster,  his  nose  nearly  at  his 
knees,  bowing  behind  her.  She  was  a  stranger  to  me  and, 
moreover,  I  had  my  eye  on  the  spot  where  the  calash  had 
stood,  so  that,  having  clean  avoided  her,  I  was  for  striding 
on,  but  she  said  sharply,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  such 
conduct,  sir  ?  " 

I  cannot  remember  any  other  occasion  in  my  life  when 
I  have  been  so  completely  taken  aback.  The  elegant  lady 


174  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

who  stood  there,  a  quizzing  smile  on  her  face  and  a  roguish 
twinkle  in  her  eyes,  was  Margaret. 

"  I've  waited  and  waited  your  honour's  convenience  till 
I  could  wait  no  longer,"  she  said. 

There  was  still  the  delightful  mock  anger  in  her  voice, 
but  the  smile  and  twinkle  changed  their  meaning,  so  to 
speak.  At  least  I,  who  delighted  to  watch  the  varying 
shades  of  expression  sweep  over  her  exquisite  face,  thought 
so  as  I  stood  there,  twizzling  my  cap  in  my  hand,  and  feeling 
an  utter  fool. 

"  You  cannot  expect  a  perfect  match  in  this  light," 
she  went  on,  plainly  enjoying  my  discomfiture,  "  especially 
as  I  have  had  to  carry  the  colour  in  my  eye." 

"  No,  madam,"  said  I  desperately,  having  to  say  some- 
thing, but  not  having  the  faintest  idea  of  what  she  was 
driving  at. 

"  I  disclaim  all  responsibility  if  it's  a  bungle.  It  will 
be  your  fault  entirely.  Your  arm,  sir  !  " 

I  offered  her  my  arm,  into  which  she  slipped  hers, 
jammed  on  my  wretched  hat,  and  together  we  made  for  the 
"  Angel."  Of  course  we  must  meet  Maclachlan,  to  com- 
plete my  misery  I  suppose,  and  he  was  keen  on  joining  us, 
but  Margaret  disposed  of  him  in  a  way  that  reminded  me  of 
Kate  shooing  a  turkey  off  from  her  feeding  chickens.  Arrived 
at  the  "  Angel,"  she  led  the  way  to  her  parlour  overlooking 
the  square,  dragged  me  hurriedly  to  the  window,  and 
undid  the  packet.  From  it  she  took  a  patch  of  cloth  and  a 
hank  of  silk  thread.  These  she  first  dabbed  on  my  sleeve, 
and  then  flourished  before  my  eyes. 

"  Quite  a  good  match  after  all !  Do  they  suit  me, 
Oliver  ?  " 

She  was  dressed  in  a  cinnamon-brown  Joseph,  buttoned 
at  the  waist,  and  showing,  above  and  below,  an  under-dress 
of  supple  woven  material,  creamy  in  colour  and  flowered  in 
golden  silk.  A  hat  of  a  military  cast,  made  of  some  short- 
napped  fur  and  set  off  with  a  great  white  panache,  half  hid 
and  half  revealed  her  masses  of  yellow  hair. 

"  You  look  perfect,"  I  said  emphatically. 

"  For  my  Prince,"  she  replied  softly.  "  Off  with  your 
coat,  and  let  me  show  you  what  sort  of  a  housewife  I  am." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  175 

I  did  as  she  bade  me,  and  she  doffed  hat  and  Joseph.  She 
set  me  comfortably  before  the  fire  in  an  elbow-chair,  and 
handed  me  a  new  pipe  and  a  fresh  paper  of  tobacco,  and 
insisted  on  my  smoking.  Then,  sitting  almost  at  my  feet 
in  a  squat  rush-bottomed  chair,  with  quaint  bow  legs  and  a 
back  like  a  yard  of  ladder,  she  set  to  work  on  the  holes 
Erocton's  rapier  had  made  in  my  coat. 

I  felt  very  cubbish  as  I  sat  feeding  my  soul  on  the  picture 
she  made  as  she  bent  over  her  stitchery.  A  rare  hobbledehoy 
I  was  in  my  villainous  coat,  but  what  I  looked  like  in  my 
shirt-sleeves,  good  linen  enough  but  home-made  and  with 
never  a  shred  of  cuff  or  ruff  to  them,  was  past  imagining. 

She  was  quite  silent  too,  and  though  talk  of  any  sort 
would  have  been  distasteful  to  me  then,  for  the  picture  was 
enough,  I  could  not  help  remembering  how  she  had  rattled 
on  with  Maclachlan.  Here  was  'another  cursed  deficiency. 
My  conversation  was  as  country-like  and  poverty-stricken 
as  my  clothes.  I  had  always  ruled  the  roast  at  our  market 
ordinaries,  where  I  was  looked  upon  as  a  bit  of  a  fop  and 
a  miracle  of  learning,  and  even  my  farming  was  solemnly 
respected  because  I  was  so  hard  and  ready  a  hitter.  Here, 
in  a  parlour  and  with  her,  so  beautiful  that  even  her  beautiful 
dress  scarce  attracted  a  passing  glance,  I  was  dull  and  ill 
at  ease.  The  only  thing  I  did,  except  to  look  at  her,  was  to 
let  my  pipe  out  and  light  it  again,  time  after  time. 

"  The  man  in  the  shop  told  me,"  Margaret  said,  "  that 
was  the  best  tobacco  that  comes  from  the  Americas." 

"  I  should  think  it  is,"  said  I ;  "  I've  never  smoked 
better." 

"  It  gives  you  a  lot  of  trouble,"  she  answered,  and  stayed 
her  stitching  for  a  moment  to  look  at  me. 

"  Did  you  get  some  right  Strasburg  for  the  Colonel  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"No.     Is  he  running  short  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

"  And  no  marvel,  either.  He  puts  his  snuff-box  under 
his  pillow,  and  when  I  take  him  his  chocolate  of  a  morning, 
he  takes  a  long,  affectionate  pinch,  and  then  says,  '  Good 
morrow,  sweetheart !  '  " 

I  laughed,  and  then  fell  silent  and  wondered.     While  I 


176  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

had  been  loafing  about  the  town,  she  had  been  attending  to 
my  small  whims  and  needs. 

And  now,  after  a  smart  rap  at  the  door,  in  flounced  a 
sprightly,  elegant  lady,  very  gay  and  very  certain  of  herself. 

"  What  a  charming,  domestic  picture  !  "  she  broke  out. 
"  I  fear  I  intrude,  Margaret  dear,  but  I'm  going  to  stay. 
The  girl  is  bringing  up  the  tea,  and  I'm  positively  dying  for 
a  cup  and  a  sit-down.  Of  course  this  " — turning  gaily  round 
on  me,  standing  there  like  a  great  gawk,  volubly  cursing  my 
shirt-sleeves  under  my  breath — "  is  the  incomparable  Oliver  ! 
Charmed  to  meet  you,  sir  !  " 

I  bowed,  and  Margaret  said  staidly,  "  Yes,  my  lady. 
This  is  Master  Oliver  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards.  Oliver, 
I  have  the  privilege  of  introducing  you  to  the  Lady  Ogilvie." 

I  bent  in  the  middle  again  and  gabbled  something.  It 
was  suitable  to  the  occasion,  I  hope. 

Lady  Ogilvie  eyed  me  up  and  down  carefully,  much  as 
I  should  overlook  a  bullock  I  had  a  mind  to  buy. 

"  When  Davie  left  me  at  Macclesfield  I  told  him  I'd  be 
guid,  and  I  will  be  guid,  but  I  wish  he  hadn't  asked  me," 
she  said.  "  Never  mind  !  At  Derby,  when  we  meet  again, 
my  promise  will  be  lapsed,  and  I  shall  flirt  with  you,  sir, 
most  furiously."  , 

"  Really,  my  lady,"  I  replied,  "  my  knowledge  of  the  art 
of  flirtation  is  merely  rudimentary,  but  I  always  understood 
that  it  required  two." 

"  Naturally,"  she  retorted,  "  that's  its  great  charm." 

"  I  see  my  mistake  now,"  said  I,  as  if  thoughtfully. 
Margaret  sat  with  her  needle  poised  for  a  stitch,  and  waited. 

"  You're  learning  already,  you  see  !  What  is  it  ?  "  said 
Lady  Ogilvie. 

"  One  and  a  bit  would  suffice  when  your  ladyship  was  the 
one,"  I  said  boldly. 

Margaret  laughed  and  resumed  the  swift  play  of  her 
needle. 

"  Indeed  so,  and  I've  struck  sparks  out  of  turnips  in  my 
time,"  she  replied,  with  much  complaisance.  "  There's  a 
glisk  of  intelligence  about  ye  now  that  was  sair  to  seek  when 
I  came  into  the  room.  Men  are  like  diamonds,  you  must 
know,  Margaret  darling,  all  the  better  for  being  cut  and 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  177 

rubbed.  I'll  teach  ye  things,  sir,  at  and  after  Derby,  that  is. 
Till  then  I'm  to  be  verra  guid." 

The  bringing  in  of  the  tea  interrupted  us.  Over  the  cups, 
though  Margaret  stuck  to  her  work,  there  was  gay  talk  about 
the  main  business  of  the  day — the  supper  and  ball  to  come. 

"  The  men  will  simply  rave  over  you,  dear,"  she  said  to 
Margaret.  "  There's  only  six  of  us,  seven  with  you  added, 
you  see,  for  no  town  ladies  wait  on  His  Royal  Highness 
nowadays,  and  I'm  danced  off  my  feet.  Maclachlan  will 
want  you  every  time,  and  you'll  be  wise  to  have  him  as  often 
as  possible,  for  he  dances  like  a  fairy.  Davie's  none  so  bad, 
but  Maclachlan  is  just  grand.  And  the  incomparable  one," 
grimacing  prettily  at  me,  "  will  foot  it  trippingly  by  the 
look  of  him." 

"  I  dance  like  a  three-legged  bear,"  said  I,  grim  enough 
at  having  my  defects  brought  home  to  me. 

"  Is  it  that  you're  telling  me  ?  "  she  replied.  "  Legs 
like  yours  and  no  music  in  them  !  Well,  well,  I'll  take  you 
in  hand,  that's  flat.  At  Derby,  of  course." 

"  Now,  Oliver,  pray  attend  to  the  simpler  matters  that 
I  deal  with,"  said  Margaret,  cutting  off  the  last  needle  of 
silk.  "  I've  done  the  best  I  can  for  you.  Come  and  appraise 
my  work  !  " 

She  held  the  coat  up  by  the  collar,  and  I  stepped  forward 
and  examined  it. 

"  Marvellous  !  "  said  I.     "  It's  as  good  as  new." 

Her  ladyship  screeched  with  laughter.  "  Oh,  you  courtier ! " 
she  said.  "  I  never  saw  anything  better  done  at  the  Tuileries. 
Look  a  foot  higher,  you  rogue  !  " 

Still  even  there  the  job  was  neatly  and  thoroughly  done, 
and  I  thanked  Margaret  for  it  heartily.  With  my  coat  on, 
I  brightened  up,  and  indeed  I  had  need  to,  for  most  of  their 
talk  was  in  and  about  a  world  of  which  I  knew  nothing. 
Thanks  to  Margaret's  hints  and  half-lights,  I  did  well 
enough. 

There  came  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door  and  then,  without 
further  ceremony,  the  Colonel  bowed  in  a  visitor.  In  the 
twilight  at  the  door  there  was  no  seeing  who  the  new-comer 
was,  but  as  he  stepped  forward  the  full  light  revealed  him. 
It  was  Prince  Charles. 


ry8  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Stir  not,  ladies,  on  your  allegiance  !  "  he  said  gaily. 
I  rose,  bowed  him  into  my  chair,  and  stood  behind  him. 

"  Oddsfish,  as  my  great  uncle  used  to  say,  I've  come  to 
save  your  life,  Master  Wheatman  !  " 

"  You  need  not  trouble,  sir,"  said  I,  "to  save  what  is 
freely  yours  to  throw  away." 

"  Very  well  said,  sir,"  he  answered,  "  and  I  shall  not 
forget  it." 

"  Good  lad,  Oliver !  "  said  the  Colonel,  dipping  for  his 
snuff-box. 

"  Still,  I  must  prove  my  point !  "  said  Charles,  smiling 
merrily.  "  My  Court  consists  of  precisely  seven  ladies  and 
an  unlimited  number  of  gentlemen,  the  latter,  for  the  most 
part,  fiery  chiefs  who  slash  off  men's  heads  as  if  they  were  tops 
of  thistles.  Yet  here  are  you,  sir,  keeping  two  of  them  all 
to  yourself.  And  such  a  two  !  Lady  Ogilvie,  whose  charms 
are  without  blemish " 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  May  I  pull  his  ears,  Your  Highness  ?  "  asked  her  lady- 
ship tartly. 

"  You  may,"  said  Charles,  "  unless  he  proves  his  point. 
A  Prince  must  be  just,  you  know  !  " 

"  That's  fair,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Of  course,"  retorted  Lady  Ogilvie.  "  He'll  be  right 
if  he  says  I've  an  eye  like  an  ox  and  a  mouth  like  a 
frog." 

"  Save  your  ears,  Master  Wheatman  !  "  said  Charles, 
grinning  at  me.  "  What's  the  blemish  ?  " 

"  Davie  !  "  said  I. 

The  Prince  rocked  with  laughter,  and  her  ladyship  en- 
joyed it  quite  as  fully. 

"  It's  the  smartest  hit  I've  heard  since  I  left  Paris,"  said 
the  Prince. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  be  good  enough  to  explain.  Who  is 
Davie  ?  " 

"  Her  ladyship's  husband,"  he  replied. 

"  Damme  !  "  I  ejaculated.  "  I  thought  he  was  only  an 
ordinary  Scotchman."  Whereat  everybody  laughed. 

"  A  most  delightful  interlude  in  a  heavy  day's  work," 
said  the  Prince.  "  I  am  unfeignedly  vexed,  ladies,  at  having 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  179 

to  rob  you  of  so  agreeable  a  cavalier,  but  I  need  Master 
Wheatman  myself." 

•  •••••• 

Half  an  hour  later  the  Colonel  stood  with  me  at  the  town's 
end  to  give  me  my  final  instructions.  I  was  on  Sultan,  with 
urgent  letters  in  my  pocket  and  important  work  on  hand. 

We  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  together  very  solemnly.  Then  he 
snapped  his  box,  rubbed  Sultan's  velvet  nose,  shook  my 
hand,  said  good-bye  gruffly,  and  strode  back  townward.  I 
cantered  on  into  the  open  road  and  the  night. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
MY  NEW  HAT 

HERE  was  what  I  had  dreamed  of.  Here  was  the 
dearest  wish  of  my  heart  gratified.  I  was  twenty- 
three,  and  I  had  three-and-twenty's  darling  equipment 
— a  magnificent  horse,  a  pair  of  unerring  pistols,  a  fine  rapier, 
a  pocket  full  of  guineas,  the  memory  of  a  woman's  grace  and 
beauty,  and  a  tough  job  in  hand.  The  only  material  thing 
I  really  wanted  was  a  new  hat,  for  yester  morning's  milk 
and  subsequent  bashings  and  bruisings  had  ruined  my  old 
one.  I  had  not  bothered  about  it  as  long  as  it  had  bobbed 
alongside  the  grey  woollen  hood  of  Margaret's  domino,  but, 
cheek  by  jowl  with  her  new  hat,  it  had  become  an  offence, 
and  must  be  remedied. 

The  black  shadow  flitted  in  and  out  of  my  mind.  I  was 
clean  and  clear  of  all  blood-guiltiness.  I  had  struck  for 
Margaret  as  he  would  have  struck  for  Kate.  Fate  had  been 
too  strong  for  us,  but  whatever  penance  life  should  lay 
upon  me  should  be  paid  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  I  had 
this  comfort  that,  could  Jack  ride  up  to  me  now,  there  would 
be  no  change  in  him.  There  would  be  for  me  the  old  hearty 
hand-grip  and  the  boyish,  affectionate  smile,  just  as  when  he 
had  run  in  to  me  on  the  town-hall  steps. 

I  had  been  commissioned  by  the  Prince  to  do  three  things  : 


i8o  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

first,  to  deliver  a  dispatch  to  my  Lord  George  Murray,  wherever 
I  should  find  him,  which  would  probably  be  at  Ashbourne, 
twelve  miles  ahead  along  a  good  road  ;  second,  to  carry  a 
letter  to  Sir  James  Blount  at  his  house  called  Ellerton  Grange, 
somewhere  near  Uttoxeter ;  third,  to  make  a  wide  circuit 
west  and  south  of  Derby,  picking  up  all  the  information  I 
could  as  to  the  feeling  of  the  populace  and  the  disposition  of 
the  enemy's  forces,  and  to  report  on  this  to  the  Prince  in 
person  at  Derby  at  six  o'clock  the  following  night.  On  this 
third  commission  the  Prince  and  Colonel  Waynflete  had  laid 
great  stress.  An  independent  and  trustworthy  report  was, 
it  appeared,  of  the  utmost  importance. 

Finally,  as  a  dependent  commission  arising  out  of  the 
first  of  the  duties  imposed  on  me  by  the  Prince,  I  bore  a 
letter  to  my  Lord  Ogilvie  from  her  ladyship.  She  had 
summoned  me  willy-nilly  to  her  room  privily. 

"  Tell  Davie  yonder  that  I'm  very  well  and  very,  very 
guid,"  she  said,  as  she  handed  me  the  letter. 

"  With  infinite  pleasure,  my  lady,"  I  replied. 

"  It  will  be  true,  ye  ken,"  she  asserted,  as  if  there  was  a 
corner  for  dubiety  in  her  own  mind  regarding  the  matter. 

"  Solemnly  and  obviously  true,  my  lady,"  I  agreed. 

"  Oh,  thou  incomparable  Oliver,  I  wish  you  were  a  lass," 
she  said,  lifting  her  merry,  girlish  face  level  with  mine,  and 
putting  a  hand  on  each  of  my  shoulders. 

"  Why,  my  lady  ?  "  I  said,  straightening  at  her  touch. 

"  Then  you  could  give  Davie  this  as  well  !  "  which  said, 
she  pecked  lightly  at  me  with  her  sweet  lips  and  kissed  me. 

It  had  flustered  me  greatly,  but  she  only  laughed  ringingly 
and  delightsomely  as  I  backed  out  of  the  room.  And  when, 
door-knob  in  hand,  I  made  my  last  bow,  she  had  wagged  her 
finger  at  me  for  emphasis  and  said,  "  Dinna  forget  to  tell 
Davie  I'm  very  guid." 

Good  she  was,  as  beaten  gold,  and  she  kept  her  spirits  up 
to  this  high  pitch  to  the  very  end.  You  can  read  in  Mr. 
Volunteer  Ray's  history  of  the  whole  affair  of  the  '  Forty-five ' 
how,  after  Culloden,  she  was  taken  prisoner  while  dressing 
for  the  ball  which  was  to  crown  the  expected  victory. 

I  smiled  a  young  man's  smile  as  I  thought  of  it.  Experi- 
ence was  writing  some  items  on  the  credit  side  of  my  new 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  181 

account  with  life.  I  had  met  a  winsome  lady  of  title  and  she 
had  kissed  me.  Margaret,  behind  my  back  and  to  a  third 
party,  had  called  me  an  "  incomparable  "  something.  What, 
I  knew  not, — "  servant  "  probably,  but  I  cared  not  what. 

Mile  after  mile  passed  without  incident  of  any  kind  until, 
at  a  second's  notice,  I  rode  into  a  ring  of  muskets  which 
closed  round  me  out  of  vacancy  as  if  by  magic.  It  was  the 
outermost  picket  of  the  army  at  Ashbourne.  I  gave  the 
parole,  "  Henry  and  Newcastle,"  and  demanded  a  guide  to 
my  Lord  George  Murray's  quarters.  There  came  a  Gaelic 
grunt  out  of  the  gloom  ;  men  and  muskets  disappeared,  with 
the  exception  of  a  single  clansman,  who  seized  Sultan's  bridle 
and  led  me  into  the  town. 

The  General  was  quartered  at  the  "  Swan  with  Two  Necks," 
a  very  respectable  hostelry,  where  my  first  care  was  to  have 
a  cloth  thrown  over  Sultan,  and  to  order  for  him  a  bucket 
of  warm  small  beer  with  three  or  four  handfuls  of  oatmeal 
stirred  into  it.  While  this  was  adoing,  and  I  was  awaiting 
a  summons  to  his  lordship's  presence,  I  took  a  nip  of  brandy 
in  the  public  room  of  the  inn,  and  over  it  amused  myself  by 
reading  a  crude  fly-sheet  nailed  on  the  wall,  offering  a  reward 
of  fifty  guineas  to  anyone  giving  information  leading  to  the 
arrest  of  one  Samuel  Nixon,  commonly  called  '  Swift  Nicks,' 
a  notorious  highwayman,  six  feet  high,  of  very  genteel  ap- 
pearance, well-spoken,  but  a  cruel,  bloody  ruffian  with  it  all. 
The  Highlander  interrupted  my  reading  by  beckoning  me 
to  follow  him.  Upstairs  we  went,  and  he  ushered  me  into  a 
room  where  were  two  gentlemen  seated  on  opposite  sides  of  a 
table  on  which  were  a  small  map  and  two  large  glasses  con- 
taining a  yellowish  liquid. 

The  younger  of  them  was  of  much  the  same  general 
appearance  as  Maclachlan,  though  by  the  look  of  him  a 
simpler  and  sweeter  man.  The  other,  a  middle-aged,  domi- 
neering man  with  a  powerful  face,  looked  angrily  at  me  as  I 
handed  him  my  dispatch. 

He  read  it  impatiently,  threw  it  down  beside  the  map, 
and  said,  "  They're  coming  on  to-night,  Davie."  Then, 
curtly  to  me,  "  Your  name,  sir  ?  " 

"  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards." 

"  Hanyards  ?     Humph  !     Are  you  an  Irishman  ?  " 


182  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  No,  my  lord.     Not  even  a  Scotchman  !  " 

He  glared  at  me,  but  his  companion  laughed,  and  said, 
"  That's  one  under  your  short  ribs,  Geordie  !  " 

"  Damn  the  Irish !  "  cried  Murray.  "  They're  the 
ruination  of  the  whole  business,  Davie,  and  ye  know  it." 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  he  replied,  "  but  that's  no  reason 
for  telling  it  to  an  English  loon  who  thinks  less  of  a  Scotchman 
than  he  does  of  a  pickelt  herring." 

"  That  may  be,  my  lord,"  said  I  to  him,  "  but  I  think  so 
well  of  one  Scottish  lady  that  I'm  proud  to  be  her  humble 
courier."  And  I  handed  him  his  letter. 

"  Man  !  man  !  "  he  said  ecstatically,  as  he  ripped  it 
open,  "  ye're  welcome  as  sunshine  in  December.  It's  from 
Ishbel.  God  bless  her  pretty  face  !  " 

He  read  the  letter  eagerly  and  then  thrust  it  into  his 
bosom. 

"  I  am,  further,"  I  went  on,  "  entrusted  with  a  message 
from  her  ladyship." 

"  God  bless  her  !     Out  with  it,  man,  out  with  it !  " 

"  I  was  to  inform  you  that  she  was  very,  very  good,' 
said  I,  soberly  as  a  judge  passing  sentence. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Geordie  Murray  ?  Very, 
very  guid  !  Eh,  man,  isn't  she  a  monkey  ?  God  bless  her  !  " 

"I'll  send  the  whole  lot  of  'em  packing  off  back  to  Edin- 
burgh," said  Murray.  "  Women  are  a  nuisance  on  a  cam- 
paign. Your  Ishbel,  be  hanged  to  her,  wants  a  carriage  all 
her  own  and  another  for  her  fineries." 

"  Ye  ken  a  lot  about  soldiering,  Geordie,"  retorted 
Ogilvie,  "  no  man  more,  but  ye  ken  less  about  soldiers  than 
a  lad  of  ten.  At  Gladsmuir  I  said  to  Macintosh, '  Let's  get 
the  damn  thing  over,  Sandy,  and  be  back  to  breakfast  wi' 
the  leddies  ! '  And  we  did." 

"  You  did  so,"  acknowledged  Murray.  "  Now,  Davie, 
take  our  courier  out  and  feed  him.  I  thank  you,  sir  1 
You  have  ridden  speedily.  Your  pace  is  faster  than  your 
tongue." 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  although  I  am  doing  his  Royal 
Highness  such  poor  service  as  lies  in  me,  I  am  not  yet  duly 
acting  under  his  commission  and  authority." 

"  What  of  it  ?  "  he  asked. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  183 

"  Hence  I  am  not  an  officer  under  your  command,  my 
lord !  " 

"  Excellent  logic !  And  the  therefore,  my  beef-eating 
friend,  is  .  .  .  ?  " 

"  That  I  would  as  lief  knock  your  head  off  as  look  at 
you  !  " 

"  When  you  are  an  officer,"  cried  he,  "  by  gad,  sir,  I'll 
teach  ye  the  manners  of  an  officer.  Till  then,  my  birkie," 
rising  and  holding  out  his  hand,  "  guid  luck  to  ye  !  " 

We  shook  hands  heartily  and  so  parted. 

"  He's  a  grand  man  is  Geordie  Murray,"  said  Ogilvie, 
as  he  led  me  to  another  room  across  the  landing.  "  Just 
a  wee  bit  birsy,  maybe,  but  these  damned  Irish  have  got 
his  kail  through  the  reek.  They're  o'ermuch  on  his  spirits 
of  late." 

All  his  other  talk  was  of  his  lady,  though  he  looked  well 
enough  after  me,  and  I  made  a  good  meal  of  the  better  half 
of  a  cold  chicken,  a  cottage  loaf,  and  a  tankard  of  poor  ale. 
Ashbourne  is  noted,  say  the  wise  in  such  matters,  for  the 
best  malt  and  the  poorest  ale  in  England. 

I  am  overmuch  English,  as  is  often  the  case  with  us  who 
live  in  the  very  heart  of  England.  The  famous  Mr.  Johnson 
is  a  shire-fellow  of  mine,  and  very  proud  I  am  of  it,  and 
reckon  it  among  the  greatest  events  of  my  life  that  he  has 
bullyragged  me  soundly  for  differing  from  him,  and  being 
right,  about  a  line  of  Virgil  he  had  misquoted  in  my  hearing. 
Like  Mr.  Johnson,  I  love  men  and  loathe  dancing-masters, 
and  these  Scotsmen  were  men  indeed,  my  Lord  Ogilvie,  as 
I  came  to  know  later,  one  of  the  choicest.  He  was  a  spare- 
built  man,  in  years  thirty  or  thereabouts,  with  a  face  all 
lines  and  angles,  and  dotted  with  pock-marks.  For  a  lord,  his 
purse  was  very  bare  of  guineas,  and  nature  had  made  up  for 
it  by  giving  him  a  belly  full  of  pride.  For  him,  the  Highland 
line  had  been  the  boundary  of  the  known  world,  so  that  his 
mind  was  a  chequer-work  of  curious  ignorance  and  knowledge. 

From  the  first  I  liked  him  for  his  joy  in  his  dainty  lady, 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  cadet  of  a  distant  branch  of  the 
famous  Bobbing  John's  family,  and  had  spent  nearly  all 
her  life  in  France  till,  on  a  chance  visit  to  Scotland,  she  had 
been  snapped  up  by  Ogilvie.  They  were  a  strangely  matched 


184  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

pair,  she  from  the  gay  salons  of  Paris,  he  from  the  misty 
mountains  of  the  north ;  but  mutual  love  had  assorted 
them  to  admiration,  for  the  heart  of  each  was  sound  as  a 
bell. 

Between  bites  I  answered  questions  as  to  how  she  had 
looked,  what  she'd  said,  done,  and  so  forth. 

"  Was  she  wearing  her  brown  riding-coat  with  the  pretty 
wee  shoulder  capes  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  I,  becoming  more  interested. 

"  Or  her  creamy  dress  with  the  gold  flowers  all  over  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I  again,  smiling  at  my  discoveries. 

"  She's  keeping  'em  for  London,"  he  explained.  "  Gosh, 
man  !  She  will  look  divine  in  'em." 

"  She  won't,"  said  I,  clipping  away  at  the  sweet  bits  still 
hanging  on  the  carcass  of  my  chicken. 

"  It'll  take  your  logic  all  its  time  to  keep  six  inches  o' 
cauld  steel  out  of  your  brisket,"  he  said  very  fiercely. 

"  Never  had  better  chicken  in  my  life,"  said  I,  watching 
him  out  of  one  eye — quite  enough  for  any  Scotsman. 

"  Damn  the  chicken  !  "  he  roared.     "  Why  won't  she  ?  " 

"  Because  she's  given  'em  away,"  I  explained  in  my 
airiest  tones. 

"  The  blue  blazes  of  hell !  "  gasped  his  lordship.  "  Given 
'em  away,  and  they  cost  me  twenty  pounds  English  !  Given 
'em  away !  "  he  whined,  utterly  lost  for  words,  "  given  'em 
away !  The  callack's  clean  dawpit.  Twenty  pounds  good 
English  money !  " 

"  Nothing  like  enough  !  "  said  I.  "  You'll  be  sorry  it 
wasn't  two  hundred." 

Two  hundred  pounds  English  was,  however,  something 
too  stupendous  for  his  mind  to  grasp,  and  the  gibe  had  no 
effect  on  him.  While  I  finished  my  ale  he  chuntered  away 
in  his  own  Gaelic. 

"  I'll  mak'  it  up  in  London,"  he  said  at  length,  "  but 
it'll  be  the  deil's  own  job." 

"  It  will  indeed,"  I  agreed,  and  drained  my  tankard 
dry. 

A  look  at  my  watch  told  me  it  was  time  to  set  about 
my  second  commission.  Sultan  was  brought  from  the 
stable,  fit  as  a  fiddle  and  eager  to  be  going.  I  examined 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  185 

my  pistols,  ran  the  tuck  up  and  down  in  its  scabbard,  leaped 
on  Sultan,  and  asked  for  the  Uttoxeter  road. 

My  Lord  Ogilvie  parted  from  me  on  the  fairest  terms, 
bringing  me  with  his  own  hands  a  great  stirrup-cup,  or  "dock- 
an-torus,"  as  he  called  it. 

"  Man,"  said  he,  "  I'm  right  glad  to  be  acquent  wi'  ye.  I 
was  thinking  I'd  gang  all  the  way  to  London  without  coming 
across  a  man  worth  fighting,  much  less  friending,  but  I  was 
in  the  wrang  of  it.  Here's  to  ye  !  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  you  match  your  sweet  lady.  Both 
of  you  have  been  wondrous  kind  to  a  hard-hit  man." 

We  gripped  hands,  saluted,  and  parted. 

It  was  all  but  pitch-dark,  and  the  moon  was  not  due  to 
rise  for  more  than  an  hour,  but  the  sky  was  clear  and  the 
stars  were  out  in  masses  for  company  and  guidance.  Ellerton 
Grange  was  near  Uttoxeter,  and  Uttoxeter  was  a  sizeable 
townlet  just  inside  my  own  county,  and  some  fifteen  miles 
from  Ashbourne.  The  road  was  the  usual  cross-road,  all  of 
it  bad  and  most  of  it  vile.  I  left  the  going  to  Sultan,  who  did 
the  best  he  could,  like  the  gallant  and  experienced  creature 
he  was.  There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  except  to  keep  a 
good  look  out  and  the  north  star  just  behind  my  right 
hand. 

My  mind  was  busy  going  oyer  all  the  memories  of  the 
last  three  days.  I  tried  hard,  but  in  vain,  to  skip  the  black 
part,  the  thought  of  which  made  me  flinch  as  if  the  branding- 
iron  was  white-hot  against  my  cheek.  Mentally  I  saw 
double — Jack's  red  blood  with  one  eye  and  Margaret's  amber 
hair  with  the  other.  As  I  rode  I  fought  memory  with  memory, 
mingling  gall  and  honey,  now  mumbling  broken  prayers  and 
now  singing  snatches  of  country  love-songs,  and  so  got  on 
as  best  I  could.  In  the  journey  of  life  a  man  pays  for  what 
he  calls  for.  Life  had  given  me  what  I  wanted,  and  the 
price  thereof  had  been  death. 

Not  only  was  the  night  dark  but  the  countryside  was 
empty.  I  rode  past  dim  outlines  of  houses  and  through 
vague,  dreamlike  villages  without  seeing  a  soul  or  hearing  a 
sound.  Once  I  saw  a  light  ahead  by  the  roadside,  but  out 
it  went  as  the  rattle  of  Sultan's  hoofs  told  of  my  coming.  It 
was  no  wonder,  for  these  poor  folk  were  living  between  two 


186  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

armies  and  wanted  neither,  friend  nor  foe.  For  them  it  was 
only  a  choice  between  the  upper  and  the  nether  millstone. 
At  last  I  came  to  a  wayside  ale-house  where  lights  were 
showing.  I  rode  up,  dismounted,  ran  the  reins  over  the 
catch  of  the  shutter,  and  went  in. 

In  the  low,  untidy  room  I  found  a  man  and  a  woman, 
bent  over  a  miserable  fire,  with  their  backs  to  a  table  whereon 
were  set  out  mug  and  platter  and  other  things  useful  for  a 
meal.  They  rose  to  greet  me,  and  their  faces  told  me  that 
they  were  expecting  some  one  and  supposed  that  I  was  he. 
When  they  saw  their  mistake,  the  woman  stepped  smartly 
in  front  of  the  man  and  said,  "  Lord,  sir,  how  you  frighted 
us  !  What  can  I  get  for  your  worship  ?  " 

"  A  mug  of  good  mulled  ale,"  said  I.  "  Give  me  good 
mulled  ale  and  a  little  information,  and  you  shall  have  a 
crown  for  your  pains." 

I  spoke  pleasantly,  having  no  need,  as  a  mere  passer-by, 
to  do  otherwise,  but  if  I  had  been  obliged  to  have  dealings 
with  them,  I  should  have  begun  by  distrusting  them  out- 
right. The  man  was  of  the  common  sort  of  ale-house  keeper, 
ugly,  beery,  and  stupid,  and  old  enough  to  be  the  father  of 
his  wife,  as  I  call  her  on  account  of  the  wedding  ring  on  her 
ringer.  She  was,  for  the  place  and  post,  a  complete  surprise, 
being  a  jaunty,  townish,  garish  woman,  dressed  in  decayed 
finery.  He  would  have  slit  my  throat  for  a  groat,  she  for  a 
grudge.  They  looked  that  sort. 

The  woman  went  into  another  room,  beyond  the  little 
bar  where  the  drinkables  were  stored,  to  get  the  spices  for 
the  mulling,  and  the  man  shuffled  grumpily  after  her. 
Hanging  on  the  wall  behind  the  bar  was  a  fly-sheet,  the  very 
same  I  had  read  in  the  "  Swan  with  Two  Necks  "  at  Ashbourne. 
"  Swift  Nicks  "  was  a  much-wanted  gentleman,  and  evidently 
a  tobie-man  with  a  wide  range  of  activities.  Out  of  mere 
vacancy  of  mind  I  walked  near  to  read  the  fly-sheet  again, 
and,  by  a  curious  chance,  among  the  drone  of  words  from 
the  other  room,  the  only  one  my  quick  ear  could  pick  out 
distinctly  was  "  Nicks." 

This  made  me  wary,  and  when  the  woman  came  out  and 
busied  herself  at  the  fire,  and  called  me  to  see  what  a  prime 
mull  she  was  brewing,  I  stood  over  her,  to  all  intent  watching 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  187 

the  process  but  ready  for  anything.  And  not  without  need, 
for  her  dirty  husband  crept  softly  out  after  her,  thinking  to 
catch  me  unawares.  I  flashed  at  him  like  a  jack  at  a  minnow, 
wrenched  a  wretched  old  blunderbuss  out  of  his  hands,  and 
with  the  butt  of  it  knocked  him  sprawling  back  into  the  other 
room. 

The  prime  muller  merely  cackled  with  false  laughter 
and  went  on  with  her  mulling.  I  fetched  him  in  by  the  scruff 
of  the  neck,  stood  him  up  against  the  bar,  and  said,  "  I 
think  you're  in  for  the  soundest  thrashing  you've  ever  had 
in  your  life." 

"  Sarves  yer  right,  sawney,"  said  the  woman.  "  Plase 
let  him  off,  sir.  He  thought  yow  was  Swift  Nicks." 

"  Yow  bitch  !  "  he  growled.     "  Yow  set  me  on  !  " 

"  Yow'm  a  ligger ! "  she  retorted.  "  I  towd  yow  the 
gen'leman  was  nowt  like  Swift  Nicks." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  By  the  print,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  It  tells  yow  all 
about  him." 

I  fetched  the  fly-sheet  down,  held  it  out  to  her,  and  said 
sharply,  "  Read  it  to  me  !  " 

I  thought  this  would  clean  beat  her,  but  she  said,  simply 
enough,  "  I  canna  rade  it  mysen,  but  I've  heard  it  read  lots 
o'  times." 

"  Have  you  heard  it  read  ?  "  I  asked  the  man. 

"  Lots  o'  times,"  he  echoed  surlily,  and  I  saw  the  woman's 
fingers  twitch  as  if  she  longed  to  furrow  his  ugly  face  with 
her  nails. 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  know  ?  " 

I  spoke  to  him  but  turned  sharp  on  the  woman,  and  saw 
hell  in  her  face.  She  was  almost  too  quick  for  me,  and 
answered  fawningly,  "  The  thought  o'  the  money  made  a  fool 
on  'im,  sir.  Plase  let  him  off.  I've  mulled  th'  ale  prime  for 
her  honour." 

This  was  true  and  I  enjoyed  it  greatly.  I  sent  the  man 
out  to  rub  Sultan  down  while  she  prepared  for  him  under  my 
eyes  a  warm  drench  of  ale  and  meal. 

"  Be  y'r  honour  going  far  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That  depends  how  far  it  is  to  Ellerton  Grange.  Do  you 
know  it  ?  " 


i88  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Oh  aye,  y'r  honour.  Sir  James  Blount  lives  there. 
It's  three  miles  out'n  Tutcheter  on  the  Burton  road." 

"  Is  it  a  straight  road  to  Uttoxeter  ?  " 

"  Half  a  mile  on  yow'll  come  to  a  fork.  Tek  the  road 
on  the  right  and  just  ride  after  y'r  nose.  Fetch  the  drench, 
Bob  !  " 

She  carried  it  off  well,  but  I  felt  there  was  a  deep  strain 
of  roguery  in  her.  Still,  willing  to  part  on  a  lighter  note,  I 
gave  her  the  crown,  saying,  "  You  deserve  a  better  trade." 

"  It's  none  so  bad,"  she  said. 

"  And  a  better  husband." 

"  Oddones  !    D'ye  think  .  .  ." 

She  stopped  abruptly,  plainly  caught  out  for  the  first 
time. 

A  minute  later  I  was  off  again.  At  the  fork  Sultan  made 
for  the  left,  and  I  had  to  pull  him  sharply  to  the  right.  The 
road  got  steadily  worse,  but  Orion  was  clear  in  view  ahead  of 
me,  dropping  down  behind  Uttoxeter,  and  I  pushed  on.  If  a 
man  is  to  turn  back  because  of  a  bad  road,  he'll  not  travel  far 
in  the  Shires.  Soon,  however,  there  was  no  road  at  all,  and  I 
was  plump  in  open  country.  Sultan  stopped  and  sniffed, 
and  then  turned  his  head  round  as  if  to  tell  me,  what  I 
already  felt  was  the  truth,  that  I  had  been  an  ass  for  not 
leaving  it  to  him. 

"  So  ho  !  Sultan  !  "  said  I,  patting  his  warm  neck.  "  I 
deserve  all  you  say,  my  beauty  !  I've  put  you  in  for  a  nice 
job." 

The  right  road  must  lie  somewhere  to  my  left.  I 
turned  him  that  way  and  he  walked  on  suspicious  and  sniffing. 
Fortunately  the  moon  had  risen,  and  the  Jezebel's  lie  would 
only  cost  me  a  trifling  delay.  She  would  have  lied  with  a 
purpose,  and  I  puzzled  myself  in  trying  to  reason  it  out.  In 
a  few  minutes  we  came  to  the  side  of  a  spinney  with  a  low 
wall  of  rough  stones  cutting  it  off  from  the  field.  I  was 
intently  looking  ahead,  when  on  a  sudden  Sultan  swerved  so 
powerfully  that  I  rocked  in  the  saddle.  I  wouldn't  have 
touched  him  with  the  spur,  short  of  utter  necessity,  for  a 
fistful  of  guineas,  and  I  soothed  him,  and  then  turned  to  look 
for  what  had  upset  him. 

To  be  candid  I  swerved  myself.     Most  of  us  in  these  days 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  189 

are  pleased  to  laugh  at  superstitions,  provided  we  are  in  good 
company  round  a  roaring  fire.  I  was  here  alone  in  a  lonely 
field,  at  nine  of  the  clock  on  a  winter  night,  and  there,  flitter- 
ing and  gliding  through  the  spinney  was  a  something  in  white. 
Virgil  believed  in  ghosts,  and  so  did  Joe  Braggs,  and  I,  by 
oft  reading  the  one  and  listening  to  the  other,  had  preserved 
an  open  mind.  Apparently  Sultan  had  his  doubts,  for  he 
shivered  and  whinnied. 

I  pulled  his  head  round  away  from  the  ghost,  drew  out 
a  pistol,  and  watched  the  unchancy  thing's  movements.  It 
was  evidently  meant  for  me,  for  it  made  a  slight  turn  and 
came  straight  towards  me.  Then  my  man's  logic,  as  Margaret 
twittingly  called  it,  came  to  my  aid.  Gloomy  as  it  was,  I 
saw  the  outlines  of  some  steps  by  which  the  low  wall  could 
be  crossed,  and  ghosts,  both  my  authorities  being  in  agree- 
ment on  this,  were  independent  of  such  purely  human  con- 
trivances. So,  waiting  till  the  ghost  was  climbing  down  on 
my  side,  I  said  sternly,  "  Stop,  or  I  fire  !  "  Whereon  it 
heaved  a  great  sob  and  tumbled  full  length  to  the  ground. 

I  jumped  down,  slipped  the  reins  over  Sultan's  head,  and 
pulled  him  up  to  the  spot.  The  ghost  was  a  well-grown  girl, 
dressed  in  nothing  but  a  white  night-gown,  for  I  could  see 
her  bare  feet  beyond  the  hem  of  it. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  dear,"  said  I  soothingly,  for  she  was 
dumb  and  half  dead  with  fright.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ? 
Say  it,  and  it's  done.  Come  now,  be  brave  !  " 

She  sat  up,  leaning  on  her  right  hand,  and  turned  her 
pallid,  quivering  face  up  to  mine. 

"  Robbers,  sir !  "  she  gasped.  "  They're  murdering 
father  and  mother.  For  God's  sake,  sir,  go  and  stop 
them." 

"  Of  course,"  I  replied  cheerfully,  slipping  off  my  jacket. 
"  Come  on,  my  brave  lass  !  " 

I  helped  the  lass  to  her  feet,  put  her  into  my  jacket, 
jumped  into  the  saddle,  and  lifted  her  astride  behind  me. 

"  Clip  me  tight !     Which  way  ?  " 

"  Round  the  spinney  first,  sir  !  " 

Off  we  went,  and  this  time  I  touched  Sultan  with  the  spur 
and  he  flew  along.  Round  the  spinney  ;  slantways  across 
a  field  ;  up  and  over  a  gate,  the  girl  clinging  to  me  like  a 


190  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

leech  ;  down  a  lane ;  up  and  over  another  gate ;  and  then 
the  girl's  shaking  right  arm  was  thrust  over  my  shoulder. 

"  There's  th'  ouse  !     O',  God,  if  we  anna  in  time  !  " 

"  How  many  are  there  ?  " 

"  Two,  sir." 

I  pulled  Sultan  up  at  the  farmyard  gate,  helped  her  down, 
and  jumped  after  her.  Hitching  the  horse,  we  started  across 
the  yard. 

Luckily  the  low-down  moon  was  on  the  far  side  of  the 
house,  and  we  could  run  softly  up  in  the  pitch  dark.  As  I 
write  I  feel  that  brave  girl's  hard  grip  of  my  hand  as  we 
raced  on.  At  a  half-open  door  we  halted  ;  she  loosed  hold 
of  me,  and  I  tiptoed  on  alone.  From  within  I  heard  the 
crash  of  one  pot  and  then  another  on  the  brick  floor  of  the 
kitchen,  as  the  villain,  searching  for  hidden  money,  smashed 
them  to  the  ground.  Bitten  to  the  vitals  by  his  want  of 
success,  he  yelled,  "  I'll  burn  the  sow's  eye  out !  That'll 
open  her  mouth." 

With  wrath  flaming  in  my  heart  I  stepped  into  the  door- 
way leading  to  the  kitchen.  My  eyes  lit  on  a  poor  woman 
bound  hard  and  fast  in  a  chair,  and  a  masked  beast,  his  big 
white  teeth  showing  through  lips  thrust  wide  apart  in  a  grin 
of  hellish  rage,  approaching  a  red-hot  poker  towards  her 
face.  I  shot  him,  and  he  tumbled  into  a  squirming  heap. 
The  other  villain  raced  for  dear  life  through  the  open  front 
door.  My  second  bullet  got  him  on  the  very  threshold,  for 
he  yelped  and  sprang  into  the  air  like  a  stricken  buck,  but 
he  held  on.  I  e'en  let  him  go,  not  daring  to  leave  the  unkilled 
scoundrel  on  the  floor,  for  he  had  a  regular  battery  of  pistols 
in  his  belt.  The  girl  was  already  untying  her  mother,  and 
her  father,  bound  and  gagged  in  his  chair  in  the  ingle-nook, 
could  bide  a  while.  So  I  plucked  the  pistols  out,  there  were 
six  of  them,  and  rattled  them  down  on  the  table.  The  man 
was  bleeding  like  a  stuck  pig,  and  his  purpling  face  and 
heaving  throat  showed  that  he  was  choking.  As  I  destined 
him  for  the  gallows,  I  picked  him  up,  flung  him  face  down 
on  the  table,  and  thumped  him  violently  in  the  back,  where- 
upon he  coughed  up  a  tooth.  My  bullet  had  stripped  out 
all  his  grinning  front  teeth  clean  and  clear,  just  as  our  Kate's 
dainty  thumb  strips  the  row  of  peas  out  of  a  peascod.  Once 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  191 

the  tooth  was  up  he  was  not  greatly  hurt,  and,  holding  one 
of  his  own  pistols  to  his  head,  I  bade  him  unstrap  the  farmer. 
As  soon  as  the  latter  was  free,  I  ordered  him  to  strap  the 
robber  to  a  kitchen  chair,  which  he  did  very  thoroughly. 
The  instant  this  job  was  done,  he  leaped  to  fondle  and  hearten 
his  wife.  She  kissed  him  back  and,  without  a  word,  feebly 
pointed  to  me,  whereupon  he  turned  and  thanked  me. 

"  Thank  your  brave  daughter,"  said  I,  and  then  he 
jumped  at  her  and  hugged  her  in  his  big  arms,  blubbing  out, 
"  My  bonny,  bonny  Nance  !  " 

At  my  wish  he  lit  a  lantern,  and  we  went  out  and  stabled 
Sultan.  We  went  back  through  the  kitchen  to  make  a 
search  of  the  front  of  the  house.  A  pretty  sight  awaited  me 
within  doors.  The  good  wife  was  sipping  at  a  cup  of  parsnip 
wine,  and  the  girl  was  again  wearing  nothing  but  her  night- 
dress. With  crimson  face  and  downcast  eyes,  she  stood 
there  holding  my  coat  out. 

"  Hallo,  ghostie  !  "  said  I,  smiling  at  her.  "  You  want 
to  frighten  me  again,  do  you  ?  " 

Too  confused  to  say  a  word,  she  lackeyed  me  into  my 
coat  and  then  ran  upstairs.  To  cut  short  her  mother's 
tearful  thanks,  I  led  the  way  to  the  door,  and  we  started  our 
examination. 

Some  two  yards  from  the  door-sill  the  feeble  rays  of  the 
lantern  were  reflected  from  something  on  the  ground.  To 
my  great  satisfaction  it  was  fair  booty  to  me,  nothing  less 
than  my  closest  need,  a  rare  good  hat  made  of  the  finest 
beaver.  The  band  was  buckled  with  gold,  and  there  was 
a  taking  and  surely  very  fashionable  cock  to  the  brim.  I 
sent  my  old  one  spinning  into  the  blackness  and  clapped  my 
new  treasure  on  my  head.  Now  I  could  walk  side  by  side 
with  Margaret  and  not  be  ashamed,  at  any  rate  not  of  my 
hat. 

"  The  rogue  jerked  it  off  when  1  winged  him,"  said  I. 

"  Gom  !  He  did  jump,  that's  sartin,"  said  the  farmer, 
whose  name,  I  ought  to  say,  I  had  learned  was  Job 
Lousely. 

It  was  quite  a  step  down  to  the  road,  and  we  made  no 
further  discovery  till  we  got  to  the  gate.  Here  it  was  his 
turn  to  be  lucky,  for  there  was  an  excellent  nag  hitched  to 


192  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

a  rail.  It  was  on  Job's  ground  and  he  gave  it  a  home  in  his 
stable. 

"  It'll  mak  up  for  the  crockery,"  he  said,  with  great 
delight. 

Back  in  the  kitchen  we  found  Nance  fully  dressed  and 
busy  laying  a  meal  on  the  table.  She  was  so  taken  aback 
when  I  declared  I  was  not  hungry  and  couldn't  stay  if  I 
had  been,  that,  to  save  her  distress,  I  had  a  bite  and  a  sup 
of  ale,  while  Job  fetched  Sultan  round  to  the  door.  She 
was  a  sweet,  comely  maiden,  and  it  did  my  heart  good  to 
see  her  put  a  horn  of  ale  to  the  bleeding  lips  of  the  robber. 
He  drank  ravenously,  like  a  dog  after  a  hard  run.  He  was 
where  he  deserved  to  be,  with  his  feet  in  the  short,  straight 
path  to  the  gallows,  and  I  pitied  him  not.  Nance  did,  and 
it's  good  for  the  world  that  women  are  made  that  way. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Ellerton  Grange  ?  "  I  asked  Job,  who 
came  in  to  tell  me  Sultan  was  ready. 

"  A  matter  of  six  miles,  sir.  Three  from  here  to  Tutcheter, 
and  three  more  on  to  the  Grange." 

"  How  funny,  father,"  interposed  Nance.  "  This  is  the 
second  time  to-night  a  gentleman  has  asked  the  road  to 
Ellerton  Grange." 

It  would  hardly  have  struck  Job  as  funny  if  it  had  been 
the  twenty-second,  but  Nance  was  quick  and  shrewd. 

"  Ho  !     Ho  !  "  said  I.     "  Tell  me  about  it,  little  woman  !  " 

"  I  was  wishing  my  Jim  good  night  at  the  gate,  just 
before  father  came  home,  when  a  man  riding  by  pulled  up 
and  asked  the  road  to  Ellerton  Grange." 

"  Did  you  make  him  out,  Nance  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  much  of  him,  sir,  but  the  moon  shone  on  his  face 
when  he  took  his  hat  off  to  wipe  his  forehead,  and  it  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  an  addled  duck-egg." 

"  Well  put,  Nance,"  said  I,  laughing.  "  First  time  I  saw 
that  face  I  thought  it  was  like  a  bladder  of  lard." 

"  You  know  him,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do,  Nance,  and  I  must  be  after  him." 

Out  of  the  robber's  string  of  pistols  I  selected  a  pair  for 
myself.  They  were  lawful  prize,  and  equal  in  quality  to 
those  Master  Freake  had  given  me,  so  that  the  rascal  had 
probably  stolen  them.  I  saw  that  all  the  others  were  loaded, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  193 

and  advised  Job  to  watch  him  all  night  and  to  lift  him, 
chair  and  all,  into  a  cart  the  next  morning  and  drive  him  off 
to  the  nearest  Justice. 

Job  and  his  wife  renewed  their  thanks  when  I  was  in  the 
saddle.  Nance  insisted  on  coming  to  open  the  gate,  and 
on  the  way  there  she  gave  me  full  and  careful  directions  as 
to  the  way  to  Tutcheter  and  thence  to  the  Grange. 

She  swung  the  gate  open  and  let  me  through.  Then  she 
came  to  my  sword  side  and  held  up  her  face  to  be  kissed. 

"  Good-bye,  ghostie  !  " 

"  Good-bye,  sir  !     God  bless  you  !  " 

Kissing  and  blessing  were  reward  enough  for  my  service, 
and  I  rode  on  lighter  at  heart  for  them. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  DOUBLE  SIX 

THE  time  had  not  been  wasted.  I  had  had  a  stirring 
experience  and  got  a  hint  of  dangers  and  uncertainties 
ahead.  Moreover,  and  on  this  I  plumed  myself  most, 
I  had  acquired  a  handsome  hat.  It  was  a  trifle  roomy,  but 
a  wisp  of  paper  tucked  within  the  inside  rim  would  remedy 
that  defect.  The  moon  was  getting  higher  and  brighter, 
and  I  pulled  my  new  treasure  off  again  and  again  to  admire 
it.  It  had  belonged  to  a  rascal  with  an  excellent  taste  in 
hats.  I  was  very  content  with  it,  and  looked  forward  eagerly 
to  catching  the  glint  in  Margaret's  eyes  when  she  saw  it. 
After  all  it  behoved  me  to  look  well  in  her  presence,  and  I 
regretted  that  the  rogue  had  not  shed  his  coat  and  breeches 
as  well.  No  doubt  they  were  equally  modish  and  becoming, 
and  would  have  set  me  up  finely,  though  all  the  tailors 
in  London  town  couldn't  make  me  a  match  for  Maclachlan. 
A  man  has  to  be  born  to  fine  clothes,  like  a  bird  to  fine 
feathers,  before  he  looks  well  in  them.  The  thought  made 
me  rueful.  I  jammed  my  hat  on  fiercely,  and  slapped 
Sultan  into  a  longer  stride. 

13 


194  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

The  man  ahead  of  me  was,  out  of  question,  the  Govern 
ment  spy,  Weir.  It  was  now  a  full  day  and  more  since  I  had 
crammed  my  Virgil  into  his  maw,  and  he  had  had  time  to 
get  into  these  parts.  Thirty  years  before  there  had  been 
much  feeling  for  the  honest  party  hereabouts,  and  among 
the  gentry  along  the  border  of  the  shires  there  would  be 
some  in  whose  hearts  the  old  flame  still  flickered.  Indeed, 
my  own  errand  proved  so  much,  and  a  noser-out  like  Weir 
would  be  well  employed  in  rooting  up  fragments  of  gossip 
over  the  bottle  and  memories  of  beery  confidences  at  market 
ordinaries — sunken  straws  which  showed  the  back-washes 
of  opinion  beneath  the  placid  surface  flow  of  our  rural  life. 
I  dug  my  fingers  into  my  thigh  and  imagined  I  was  wringing 
the  rascal's  greasy  neck,  and  the  feeling  did  me  good. 

I  began  to  ride  past  scattered  houses  and  then  between 
rows  of  cottages.  Sultan  was  tiring  a  little,  but,  being  an 
experienced  horse,  pricked  up  at  the  sight  and  cantered 
down  the  dead  main  street  of  the  town.  The  shadows  of 
the  houses  on  my  left  ended  in  an  irregular  line  on  the  cobbled 
causeway  on  my  right.  Near  the  town  end  I  came  on  an 
exception  to  the  black-and-white  stillness  of  the  houses — 
an  inn  on  my  right  ablaze  with  light  and  full  of  noise.  A 
merry  liquorish  company  it  held,  some  quarrelling,  some 
rowdily  disputatious,  and  a  few  stentors  trying  to  drown 
the  rest  by  roaring  a  tipsy  catch.  I  pulled  Sultan  towards 
the  verge  of  the  shadows  to  see  if  I  could  make  anything 
out,  and  he,  supposing,  no  doubt,  that  I  was  guiding  him 
towards  bait  and  stable,  made  a  half-turn  towards  the  portico 
that  ran  on  pillars  along  the  face  of  the  inn.  I  checked  him 
at  once,  but,  in  that  trice  of  time,  a  man  leaped  from  behind 
a  pillar,  laid  one  hand  on  the  pommel  of  my  saddle,  and 
raised  the  other  in  warning.  He  was  a  little  man,  and  in 
his  eagerness  he  stood  on  tiptoe  and  whispered,  "  Ride  on, 
Master  Wheatman  !  One  second  may  cost  you  dear  !  " 

Even  as  he  spoke,  some  movement  within  startled  him, 
and  he  leaped  back  into  the  shadow  before  I  could  question 
him. 

I  urged  Sultan  onward,  and  once  out  of  footfall  of  the 
inn,  pricked  him  into  a  gallop.  Out  of  the  town  he  fled, 
past  the  end  of  the  Stafford  road,  along  which  two  hours 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  195 

of  Sultan's  best  would  bring  me  to  the  Hanyards  and  mother 
and  Kate,  and  I  kept  him  at  it  for  a  full  two  miles  before  I 
gave  him  a  breather  and  settled  down  to  think  out  what  it 
meant. 

I  did  not  know  the  man  from  Adam,  but  he  had  me  and 
my  name  quite  pat.  He  was  obviously  a  friend,  for  his 
bearing  and  his  warning  alike  bespoke  his  goodwill  towards 
me.  He  must  be  waiting  there  for  some  purpose,  and  he  must 
have  seen  me  somewhere  and  learned  enough  about  me  to 
know  from  what  source  danger  to  me  was  certain  to  come. 
In  this  case  it  was  plain  that  the  danger  was  within  the  inn. 
The  carousers  might  be,  nay,  almost  certainly  were,  soldiers, 
though  there  had  been  none  in  the  town  when  Job  Lousely 
had  left  it  less  than  two  hours  ago.  The  news  of  my  escapade 
might  well  have  leaked  into  Stafford  by  now  ;  I  was  very 
well  known  in  the  town,  and  the  stranger  might  be  some 
Stafford  chap  benighted  at  Uttoxeter  after  his  business  at 
the  market.  As  I  say,  I  did  not  know  the  man,  but  he  might 
very  well  know  me  ;  he  was,  perhaps,  some  old  schoolfellow, 
grown  out  of  recollection  by  moonlight,  and  still  willing  to 
serve  an  old  butty.  This  seemed  the  likeliest  solution  of 
the  difficulty,  and  it  made  me  very  sad.  The  news  about 
Jack  would  be  whispered  round  by  now,  and  I  could  never 
walk  the  old  streets  again  without  seeing  nods  and  shudders 
everywhere.  See  him  ?  That's  him  !  Killed  his  best  friend  ! 
Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards  !  Never  held  his  head  up  since  ! 
And  hadn't  ought  to  !  The  chatter  of  the  townsfolk  crept 
into  my  ears  between  the  hoof -beats,  and  made  me  sick  and 
dizzy. 

It  would  not  have  happened  but  for  the  bladder-faced 
scoundrel  ahead  of  me,  now  creeping  around  like  a  loathsome 
insect  to  sting  a  man  of  ancient  name  and  fame,  and  I  was 
eager  to  be  at  him  again.  Sultan,  without  more  urging,  had 
made  the  furlongs  fly  in  gallant  style,  and  it  was  time  to  be 
looking  out  for  my  landmarks.  Nance  had  made  me  letter- 
perfect  in  them.  Here,  on  the  right,  was  the  woodward's 
cottage  where  the  road  began  to  run  downhill  into  a  bottom 
dark  with  ancient  elms  :  there,  on  my  left,  in  an  open  space 
among  the  boles,  the  moon  showed  up  a  worn,  grey  column 
which  marked  the  spot  where,  in  the  wild  days  of  the  Roses, 


iq6  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

a  Parker  Putwell  had  slain  a  Blount  in  unfair  fight  for  a  light 
of-love  not  worth  the  blood  of  a  rabbit.  Nance  had  very 
earnestly  told  me  the  old,  sad  tale,  to  impress  the  spot  on  my 
mind,  for  the  long  lane  up  to  Ellerton  Grange  began  in  the 
shadows  just  beyond  the  monument,  and  wound  away  up  the 
slope  to  the  right.  The  road  carried  us  up  where  the  moon- 
light fell  on  meadows  that  were  almost  lawns,  and  across 
them  to  a  maze  of  buildings.  A  minute  later,  I  leaped 
off  Sultan  and  hammered  away  at  the  studded  oaken  door  of 
Ellerton  Grange. 

No  man  came  to  my  summons,  and  I  sent  a  second  volley 
of  rat-tats  echoing  through  the  house  before  I  heard  a  shuffling 
of  feet  within  and  a  drawing  of  big  bolts.  The  door  crept 
open  for  a  foot  or  so,  and  an  old  man's  head,  with  a  lantern 
trembling  over  it,  appeared  in  the  gap. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  he  quavered. 

"  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards,"  I  answered ;  "  but  my 
name  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  and  my  business  is.  I  must 
see  Sir  James  Blount." 

"  He's  abed,"  said  he,  "  hours  ago  !  " 

"  Then  fetch  him  out !  " 

The  old  man  pushed  his  lantern  close  to  my  face  and 
straightened  himself  to  take  a  fair  look  at  me.  He  had 
sunken  cheeks  and  toothless  gums,  and  hairless  eyes  with 
raw,  red  lids,  and  out  of  all  question  was  some  ancient,  rusty 
serving-man,  tottery  and  slow,  but  quick-minded  enough, 
and  of  a  dog-like  faithfulness  to  the  hand  that  fed  him. 

"Young  and  masterly,"  he  muttered, "  and  o'er  young 
to  be  so  o'er  masterly.  But  I  mind  the  day  when  I  would 
'a'  raddled  his  bones  with  my  quart erstaff." 

"  I  won't  naysay  it,  grandad,"  I  answered,  seeking  to 
humour  him.  "  In  your  time  you've  been  a  two-inch 
taller  lad  than  I  am.  Not  so  big  o'  the  chest,  though, 
grandad." 

"  Who're  you  grandadding  ?  I  was  big  enough  o'  the 
chest  when  I  could  neck  meat  and  drink  enough  to  fill  me 
out:  Now !  " 

As  he  spoke  he  gripped  a  handful  of  the  waistcoat  that 
hung  loosely  about  him,  and  added,  "  Once  it  was  a  fair  fit, 
my  master.  It's  cold  and  late  for  my  old  bones  to  be  creaking 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  197 

about,  but  Trusty's  the  dog  for  the  tail-end  of  the  hunt,  and 
a  Blount's  a  Blount  and  mun  be  served." 

"  Fetch  him  out !  "  I  repeated.  "  I've  ridden  hard  and 
far  to  serve  him." 

The  ancient  took  another  look  at  me  and  said  to  himself 
in  a  loud  whisper,  after  the  manner  of  old  and  favoured 
serving-men,  "  A  farmering  body  all  but  his  hat,  and  none 
o'  your  ride-by-nights." 

"  Fetch  him  out ! "  said  I  again,  not  for  want  of  fresh  words 
to  say  to  the  candid  old  dodderer  but  to  keep  him  to  the  point. 

"  Oh-aye,"  said  he,  and  shuffled  off. 

He  left  me  fuming,  for  his  last  mutteration,  as  he  shook 
his  lantern  to  stir  the  flame  up  a  bit,  was,  "  Knows  a  true 
man  when  he  sees  one.  More  used  to  a  carving-knife  than 
a  sword,  I'll  be  bound.  What  did  he  say  ?  Wheatman  o' 
sommat !  Reg'lar  farmering  name  !  " 

I  kicked  the  door  wide  open  and  watched  the  lantern 
bobbing  along  the  hall.  The  light  made  pale  shimmerings 
on  complete  suits  of  mail  hanging  so  life-like  on  the  high, 
bare,  stone  walls,  that  it  seemed  for  all  the  world  as  if  the 
knights  had  been  crucified  there  and,  little  by  little,  age  after 
age,  had  dropped  to  dust,  leaving  their  warrior  panoplies 
behind — empty  shells  on  the  shore  of  time  from  which  the 
life  had  dripped  and  rotted.  The  old  man  toiled  up  the 
grand  staircase  at  the  far  end  of  the  hah1  and  turned  to 
the  right  along  a  gallery.  The  friendly  light  disappeared, 
leaving  me  darkling  and  alone.  Sultan  sniffed  his  way  to 
the  door,  pushed  in  his  head  and  neck,  and  rubbed  his  nose 
against  my  breast  in  all  friendliness.  I  flung  my  arms  round 
his  neck  and  caressed  him,  and  in  those  anxious  minutes  in 
the  doorway  of  Ellerton  Grange  he  was  comrade  and  sweet- 
heart to  me,  and  comforted  my  spirit  greatly. 

Footsteps  and  a  voice  within  made  me  turn  my  head.  A 
man  came  at  a  run  down  the  stairs  and  along  the  hall.  After 
him  the  old  serving-man  hastened,  lantern  in  hand,  as  best 
he  could. 

"  Sir  James  Blount  ?  "  said  I. 

"  The  same,"  said  he  curtly  and  confusedly. 

"  I  bring  you  a  letter  from  a  very  exalted  person,  Sir 
James,"  I  explained. 


198  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

He  took  it  from  me  much  as  he  would  have  taken  a  bowl 
of  poison.  "  The  light !  The  light !  You  slow  old  fool ! 
The  light !  "  he  said,  jerking  the  words  out  as  if  his  soul 
was  in  distress,  and  the  ancient,  barely  half-way  down  the 
hall,  quickened  his  poor  pace  up  to  his  master.  He,  tearing 
the  lantern  out  of  the  feeble  hands,  and  rattling  it  down  on  a 
table,  ripped  open  the  letter  and  devoured  its  contents. 

The  light  of  the  lantern  revealed  the  face  of  a  man  still 
young,  but  at  least  a  half-score  years  my  elder.  He  had  a 
thin-lipped,  sensitive  mouth,  a  great  arched  nose,  and  quick, 
eager  eyes.  His  mind  was  running  like  a  mill-race,  and  his 
fine  face  twitched  and  wreathed  and  wrinkled  under  the 
stress  of  the  flow.  Another  thing  plain  enough  was  that  the 
old  man  had  lied  when  he  said  his  master  was  abed,  for  he  was 
fully  and  carefully  dressed  and  his  wig  had  not  in  it  a  single 
displaced  or  unravelled  curl.  This  was  no  half-awakened 
dreamer,  but  a  man  with  the  issues  of  his  life  at  stake. 

He  crushed  the  letter  in  his  hand  and  paced  up  and  down 
the  hall,  muttering  to  himself.  I  turned  and  rubbed  Sultan's 
nose  to  keep  him  quiet  and  happy.  The  old  servant  took 
charge  of  the  lantern  again,  and  followed  his  master  up  and 
down  with  his  eyes. 

"  A  year  ago,  yes  !  A  year  ago,  yes  !  "  I  heard  Sir  James 
say.  He  quickened  his  steps  and  the  words  came  in  jerks, 
mere  nouns  with  verbs  too  big  with  meaning  for  him  to 
utter  them.  "  A  word  !  A  dream  !  A  dead  faith  !  Yes, 
father  !  The  devil !  Sweetheart !  " 

There  is  a  great  line  in  the  JEneid  which  I  had  tried  in 
vain  a  hundred  times  to  translate.  Three  days  agone  I 
would  have  tilted  at  it  once  more  with  all  the  untutored  zeal 
of  a  verbalist.  I  should  never  need  to  try  again.  There  are 
some  lines  in  the  Master  that  life  alone  can  translate.  Sunt 
lachrymae  rerum  et  mentem  mortalia  tangunt. 

After  a  turn  or  two  in  silence,  Sir  James  broke  off  his 
pacing  and  came  to  me. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  you  will  know  enough  to  excuse  my 
inattention  to  a  guest.  I  must  make  it  up  if  I  can.  Give  me 
the  lantern  and  wait  for  us  here,  Inskip.  Come  with  me,  sir, 
and  stable  your  horse.  Gad  so,  sir,"  holding  up  the  lantern, 
"  you  ride  the  noblest  animal  I  have  ever  seen.  Woa,  ho, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  199 

my  beauty !  All  my  men  are  abed,  so  we  must  do  it  our- 
selves, but,  by  Heaven,  it  will  be  a  pleasure,  Master — what 
may  I  call  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  Just  the  plain  name  of  my  fathers — Oliver  Wheatman 
of  the  Hanyards." 

"  A  good  strong  name,  sir,  though  my  fathers  liked  it 
not." 

"  And  you,  Sir  James  ?  " 

"  Frankly,  it  is  a  name  which  to  me  has  ceased  to  be  a 
symbol.  A  good  fellow  can  call  himself  '  Oliver '  without 
setting  my  teeth  on  edge.  I  had  a  grand  foxhound  once,  and 
called  him  '  Noll,'  just  because  he  was  grand.  My  dear  old 
father  consulted  a  London  doctor  as  to  the  state  of  my  mind. 
It  made  him  anxious,  you  see  !  The  great  man  said,  gruffly 
enough,  that  I  was  as  sane  as  a  jackdaw.  Thereupon  my 
dear  dad,  one  of  the  best  men  that  ever  lived,  had  the  dog 
shot !  " 

He  laughed,  reminiscently  rather  than  merrily;  and  was  to 
my  mind  bent  on  getting  a  grip  on  himself  again.  We  made 
Sultan  comfortable  for  the  night,  and  then  Sir  James 
courteously  said  it  was  high  time  to  be  attending  to  me. 
He  made  no  further  indirect  reference  to  the  situation,  until, 
as  he  was  leading  me  along  the  hall,  he  stopped  opposite  a 
great  dim  picture,  hanging  between  two  sets  of  mail,  and 
held  the  lantern  high  over  his  head  to  give  me  a  view  of  it. 
With  a  strange  mixture  of  resentment  and  pathos,  he  said, 
"  A  man's  ancestors  are  sometimes  a  damned  nuisance, 
sir  !  " 

"  They  are  indeed  !  "  I  replied.  "  There's  one  of  mine 
shaking  his  fist  at  me  over  the  battlements  of  the  New 
Jerusalem." 

He  laughed  heartily,  and,  with  Inskip  trailing  patiently 
behind  us,  led  me  upstairs,  and  through  the  gallery  into  a 
long  corridor,  lit  by  lanterns  fixed  in  sconces  on  the  walls. 
We  stopped  opposite  a  door,  and  he  was  about  to  lead  me 
in  when  another  door  farther  along  the  corridor  opened  and 
a  lady  came  out.  She  was  all  in  white  with  dark  hair  hanging 
loose  about  her  shoulders,  and  there  was  a  something  in  her 
arms. 

Down  went  the  lantern  with  a  bang,  and  Sir  James  flew 


200  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

like  a  hunted  buck  along  the  corridor.  He  whipped  his 
arms  around  the  lady  and  kissed  her  passionately,  and  then 
flung  on  his  knees  and  held  out  his  arms.  She  put  the  some- 
thing in  white  into  them  and  there  was  a  little  puling 
cry. 

"  Married  a  year  come  Christmas,"  whispered  old  Inskip, 
"  and  the  babby's  five  weeks  old  to-morrow." 

A  serving-woman  bustled  out  of  another  room,  and  the 
lady  and  child  were  affectionately  driven  off  to  bed  under 
her  escort.  Sir  James  came  slowly  back. 

"  My  wife  and  son,  Mr.  Wheatman,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  meet  them  to-morrow.  The  young  rascal  cries  out 
whenever  I  desecrate  him  with  my  touch.  It  would  have 
served  him  right  to  have  christened  him  '  Oliver.' ' 

I  laughed  heartily,  for  he  was  fighting  himself  again  by 
gibing  at  me.  He  sent  off  the  old  man  to  scour  the  pantry 
for  a  supper  for  me,  and  then  pushed  open  the  door  and  led 
me  into  the  room. 

For  size  and  dignity,  it  was  a  room  to  take  away  the 
breath  of  a  poor  yeoman.  It  seemed  to  me  a  Sabbath  day's 
journey  to  the  great  blazing  hearth,  where  two  men  were 
sitting  ;  the  high  white  ceiling  was  moulded  into  a  wondrous 
design,  with  great  carved  pendants  hanging  from  it  like 
icicles  from  the  eaves  of  the  Hanyards.  Many  bookcases 
ran  half-way  up  the  walls  round  the  greater  part  of  the  room, 
filled  with  stores  of  books  such  as  my  heart  had  never  dreamed 
of,  great  leather-bound  folios  by  platoons,  and  quartos  by 
regiments.  If  I  could  get  permission  I  would  steal  an  hour 
or  two  from  sleep  to  eye  them  over,  and  as  we  walked  towards 
the  hearth  I  got  behind  my  host  in  my  slowness  and  had  to 
step  up  smartly  to  get  level  with  him  to  make  my  bow  of 
introduction.  I  gasped  with  the  shock  as  I  stepped  into  the 
arms  of  Master  John  Freake. 

"  My  dear  lad,"  he  cried,  "  what  luck !  What  luck  ! 
How  are  you  ?  How  are  they  ?  " 

He  made  me  sit  down  beside  him,  for  here  as  elsewhere 
he  was  easily  the  most  important  man  present,  though  his 
bearing  was  ever  quiet  and  modest.  He  spoke  of  me  to  Sir 
James  in  warm  and  kindly  phrases,  and  it  soon  became 
manifest  that  his  good  word  was  a  passport  into  my  host's 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  201 

confidence  and  regard.  The  three  gentlemen  filled  their 
glasses  and  toasted  me  with  grave  courtesy,  and  I  easily  slid 
out  of  the  uneasy  mood  into  which  Inskip's  candour  and  my 
unaccustomed  surroundings  had  driven  me. 

The  third  man  present  was  a  Welsh  baronet,  Sir  Griffith 
Williams,  a  far-away  cousin  and  close  friend  of  Sir  Watkin 
Wynne,  whose  name  I  remembered  to  have  heard  on  the 
Colonel's  lips  at  Leek.  Sir  Griffith  was  a  brisk,  apple-cheeked 
man  of  forty  or  thereabouts,  very  fluent  of  speech  in  some- 
what uncertain  English,  with  fewer  ideas  in  his  head  than 
there  are  pips  in  a  codlin,  but  what  there  were  of  them 
singularly  clear  and  precise.  He  reminded  me  of  Joe  Braggs, 
who  could  only  whistle  three  tunes,  but  whistled  them  like 
a  lark. 

Inskip  brought  me  a  rare  dish  of  venison-pie  and  various 
other  good  things,  and  laid  out  the  table  for  me.  I  left 
Master  Freake's  side  to  eat  my  supper  and  listen  to  their 
talk. 

They  made  various  false  starts,  followed  by  dead  silences. 
It  was  clean  useless  for  Sir  James  to  talk  about  his  baby. 
Sir  Griffith  had  had  a  long  family  and  so  had  exhausted  the 
topic  years  ago,  whilst  Master  Freake,  a  bachelor,  knew 
nothing  about  it.  There  had  been  a  great  flood  in  the  Welsh- 
man's valley  in  the  autumn  and  he  harangued  upon  it  in 
style,  and  not  without  gleams  of  native  poetry,  but  Sir  James 
had  never  seen  a  flood  and  Master  Freake  had  never  been 
to  Wales,  so  the  flood  soon  dried  up. 

There  was  a  silence  for  some  minutes,  busy  minutes  for 
me  with  an  apple  tart  that  was  sublime  with  some  cream  to 
it,  and  I  was  settling  down  to  the  sweet  content  of  the  well-fed 
when  Sir  James  broke  out. 

"  Mr.  Wheatman  has  brought  me  an  invitation,  hardly 
to  be  distinguished  from  a  command,  to  meet  His  Royal 
Highness  at  the  Poles'  place  to-morrow." 

The  eager  Welshman  bounced  on  to  his  feet,  raised  his 
glass  and  said,  "  To  the  Prince,  God  bless  him."  Sir  James 
had  to  follow  his  example,  though  he  was  in  no  mood  for  it, 
and  it  would  have  looked  ill  had  I  not  joined  in,  and  moreover 
the  wine  was  excellent. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen,"  said  Master  Freake. 


202  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  I  am  not  clear  which  Royal  Highness  is  referred  to,  and 
besides  I  have  no  politics." 

"  God  bless  him,"  bubbled  the  Welshman.  "  I  shall  join 
him  when  he  has  crossed  the  Trent." 

Again  there  was  silence  for  a  space. 

"  So  the  question  is  put,  and  I  must  give  my  answer," 
said  Sir  James,  breaking  the  stillness.  "  I  must  put  my 
hand  to  the  plough  or  draw  back.  I  must  keep  my  word  or 
break  it.  Can  I  be  loyal  to  my  father's  creed  and  also  to 
my  child's  interests  ?  I've  got  to  be  both  if  I  can.  If  I 
can't  be  both,  which  is  to  have  the  go-by  ?  Fate  has  put 
me  in  a  cleft  stick,  Master  Wheatman.  On  his  death-bed 
my  father  handed  on  to  me  his  place  in  the  old  faith.  He 
was  a  devoted  adherent  of  the  exiled  House,  the  close  friend 
and  associate  of  Honest  Shippen,  and  even  more  intimately 
concerned  than  he  in  the  underground  network  of  intrigue 
and  preparation  which  was  constantly  being  woven,  ruined, 
and  re-woven  up  to  his  death  ten  years  ago.  He  left  me  poor 
and  encumbered  with  debt,  for  he  had  been  prodigal  in  his 
sacrifices  for  the  cause.  It  is  a  wonder  that  he  died  in  his 
bed  rather  than  on  the  block,  but  he  was  as  wary  as  he  was 
zealous.  For  nine  years  I  lived  here  the  life  of  a  hermit, 
alone  with  my  debts  and  my  books.  Then  I  met  a  young 
girl  " — his  voice  broke  badly — "  who  became  to  me  the  all- 
in-all  of  my  life.  By  good  fortune  I  also  met  Master  Freake, 
who  took  my  affairs  in  hand  for  me  and  has  helped  me  wisely 
and  generously." 

"  For  ten  per  cent,  Oliver,"  interrupted  Master  Freake. 

"  Nonsense  !  Wisely  and  generously,  I  repeat,"  said  Sir 
James  warmly. 

"  For  ten  per  cent  on  good  security,  I  repeat,"  answered 
Master  Freake  gravely. 

"  Damn  your  ten  per  cent  !  " 

"  Looks  like  it,  and  the  security  into  the  bargain ! " 
said  Master  Freake  very  quickly. 

"  Swounds  !  that's  just  it  !  "  said  Sir  James.  He  rose 
and  paced  backwards  and  forwards  between  me  and  the 
hearth.  "  A  year  ago,  sir," — he  addressed  me  in  .particular — 
"  I  should  have  shouted  with  joy  at  the  summons  to  take  the 
place  among  the  adherents  of  the  cause  which  my  father 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  203 

would  have  held  had  he  lived,  and  which  it  was  his  heart's 
wish  on  his  death- bed  that  I  should  take  for  him.  The 
cause  and  the  creed  are  nothing  to  me  as  such,  for  I  place 
no  value  on  either.  Your  talk  about  the  right  divine  of  old 
Mr.  Melancholy,  mumming  and  mimicking  away  there  at 
Rome,  makes  me  smile.  He's  an  old  fool,  that's  the  long  and 
short  of  it.  But  a  Blount's  a  Blount  after  all.  I  owe  some- 
thing to  my  ancestors.  My  word  to  my  father  ought  not  to 
be  an  empty  breath.  Yet  here  I  am,  with  all  the  interests 
of  life  pulling  one  way — wait  till  you've  a  boy  five  weeks 
old  by  a  wife  you'd  be  cut  in  little  pieces  for,  and  you'll  know, 
sir, — and  a  dead  father  and  a  dead  creed  pulling  the  other. 
I  knew  what  was  coming,  and  I've  talked  about  it  and 
thought  about  it  till  my  head's  like  a  bee-hive.  Now,  sir, 
give  me  your  advice  !  " 

"  I  have  joined  the  standard  of  your  Prince,"  I  said. 

"  Damme,  sir,  you  mock  me.  That's  not  advice.  That's 
torture." 

"  I  have  turned  my  back  on  the  creed  of  my  life  and  on 
every  sound  instinct  in  me,"  I  continued. 

He  stopped  his  walk  and  looked  intently  at  me. 

"  I  have  ancestors  whose  memory  I  cherish,  and  I  have 
torn  up  their  work  as  if  it  were  a  scrap  of  paper  covered  with 
a  child's  meaningless  scribble." 

Sir  James  stepped  up  to  the  table,  his  fine  face  alive  with 
emotion. 

"  For  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  rose  and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"  For  a  woman,"  I  whispered,  very  low  but  very  proudly. 

Our  hands  met  across  the  table  in  a  hard  grip. 

"  You  have  done  well,  sir !  "  he  said.  "  I  asked  you  to 
give  me  advice.  You  have  set  me  an  example." 

He  sat  down  again,  and  looked  hopefully  at  the  fire  and 
then  moodily  at  Master  Freake. 

"  There  is  this  unfortunate  difference  between  Mr.  Wheat- 
man's  case  and  mine.  I  have,  and  he  has  not,  given  my 
plain  word  to  a  father." 

"  I  admit  that  is  a  striking  difference,"  said  Master 
Freake.  "  I  am  no  Jesuit,  however,  and  cannot  decide  cases 
of  conscience.  I  deal  with  business  problems  only,  which 


204  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

are  all  cat  and  dry,  legal  and  formal.  When  I  make  a 
promise  in  the  way  of  business  I  always  keep  it  precisely 
and  punctually,  for  the  penalty  of  failure  to  do  so  is  a  business 
man's  death — bankruptcy." 

"  There's  such  a  thing  as  moral  bankruptcy,"  said  Sir 
James  gloomily. 

"  Very  likely,"  replied  Master  Freake. 

"  This  is  all  nothing  whatefer  but  words,  words,  words." 
said  the  Welshman.  "  And  words,  my  goot  sirs,  are  indeed 
no  goot  whatefer.  Sir  James's  head  is  wrapped  up  in  a  mist 
of  words,  words,  words,  and  indeed  he  cannot  see  anything 
whatefer.  I  am  not  a  man  of  words,  and  what  you  call 
'em — broblems." 

"  Very  good,"  said  I. 

"  Indeed  it  is  goot,"  said  he.  "  To  hell  with  your  words 
and  your  broblems.  They  are  of  no  use  whatefer,  whatefer. 
Our  good  friend,  Sir  James,  is  up  to  his  neck  in  broblems  like 
a  man  in  a  bog,  and  he  cannot  move.  Now  I  have  not  your 
broblems.  To  hell  with  your  broblems.  My  Cousin  Wynne 
is  full  of  'em,  and  he's  still  gaping  up  at  the  cloud  on  Snowdon, 
while  I'm  here,  ready.  I  say  plain  :  if  the  Prince  cross 
south  of  the  Trent  I  will  join  him." 

"  Why  the  Trent  ?  "  said  I. 

"  It  is  my  mark.  It  is  my  way  of  knowing  what  I  will  do. 
It  is  all  so  simple.  Indeed  I  am  a  simple  man,  not  a  broblem 
in  my  brain,  none  whatefer,  I  tell  you  plain.  It  is  as  this — so. 
If  the  Prince  cross  the  Trent,  say  I  to  myself,  well  and  goot. 
He  do  his  share.  It  is  time  for  me  to  do  mine.  It  is  better 
indeed,  I  tell  you  plain,  to  have  it  settled  by  a  simple  thing 
like  the  Trent  than  to  have  it  all  muddled  up  by  your 
broblems.  I  can  sing  you  off  my  ancestors  by  dozens,  right 
back  to  the  standard-bearer  of  the  great  Llewellyn,  but 
they're  all  dead,  and  indeed  I'm  not  going  to  poke  about 
among  their  bones  to  find  out  what  to  do.  I  look  at  your 
pretty  river,  and  I  wait." 

Sir  James  had  looked  at  him  during  this  harangue  with 
unconcealed  impatience. 

"  I  sent  a  letter  to  Chartley  of  Chartley  Towers,"  he  said, 
"  one  of  us,  and  a  strong  one  by  all  accounts.  At  any  rate, 
my  father  always  reckoned  him  as  such.  So  I  asked  him 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  205 

guardedly  what  he  thought,  and  his  reply  was,  '  The  chest- 
nut is  on  the  hob.  I  am  waiting  to  see  whether  it  jumps  into 
the  fire  or  into  the  fender.'  I  cannot  decide  by  appealing 
to  rivers  or  nuts.  There's  much  more  in  it  than  that." 

Fate  snatched  the  problem  out  of  his  hands.  Without  a 
tap,  without  a  word,  the  door  of  the  room  was  flung  open, 
and  a  dozen  troopers  filed  swiftly  and  silently  in,  and  covered 
us  with  their  carbines.  An  officer,  sword  in  hand,  pushed 
through  a  gap  in  their  line  and  stepped  half  a  dozen  paces 
towards  us.  He  saluted  us  ceremoniously  with  his  sword 
and  said,  "  In  the  King's  name !  "  Behind  the  line  a  man 
in  citizen  clothes  hovered  uncertainly,  and  dim  as  the  light 
was  I  made  him  out  only  too  plainly.  It  was  the  Govern- 
ment spy,  Weir.  My  goose  was  cooked.  I  had  played  for 
life's  highest  stake,  and  thrown  amb's  ace.  It  was  good-bye 
to  Margaret. 

The  Welshman  stuck  to  his  chair,  stolid  as  his  native 
hills.  Master  Freake,  whose  back  was  to  the  new-comers, 
made  a  swift  half  turn,  and  then  he,  too,  settled  down  again 
as  indifferently  as  if  the  interruption  had  only  been  old 
Inskip  with  the  bedward  candles.  Blount  leaped  to  his 
feet,  livid  with  rage,  and  strode  up  to  the  officer. 

"  My  Lord  Tiverton,  what  does  this  intrusion  mean  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  It  means,"  was  the  composed  reply,  "  that  if  any  one  of 
you  makes  the  slightest  attempt  to  resist,  he  will  be  shot 
out  of  hand.  Close  up,  lads,  and  cover  your  men  !  " 

The  order  was  obeyed  briskly  and  exactly.  The  three  on 
the  left  of  the  line  attended  to  me,  and  I  sat  there,  toying 
with  a  wine-glass  for  appearance'  sake,  though  the  three 
brown  barrels  levelled  straight  and  steady  at  my  head  made 
my  heart  rattle  like  a  stone  in  a  can.  These  were  none  of 
Brocton's  untrained  grey-coats,  but  precise,  disciplined 
veterans  in  blue  tunics  and  mitre-shaped  hats,  white  breeches 
and  high  boots,  belted,  buttoned,  and  bepouched.  It  was 
almost  a  compliment  to  be  shot  by  such  tall  fellows. 

Seeing  we  were  all  harmless,  the  officer  dropped  his  military 
preciseness  as  if  it  were  an  ill-fitting  garment.  He  was  the 
daintiest,  handsomest  wisp  of  a  man  I  had  ever  set  eyes  on, 
and  looked  for  all  the  world  like  an  exquisite  figure  in  Dresden 


206  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

china  come  to  life.  He  could  not  have  had  much  soldiering 
— the  air  and  aroma  of  the  London  salon  still  hung  closely 
around  him — and  he  was  so  very  self-possessed  that  he 
was  play-acting  half  his  time,  doing  everything  with  a  grace 
and  relish  that  were  highly  diverting.  It  took  all  my  pride 
in  my  new  hat  out  of  me  to  see  this  desirable  little  picture 
of  a  man. 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Sir  James,"  he  said,  "  that  it's 
a  damned  annoying  thing  to  me  to  have  to  act  so  unhand- 
somely. Stap  me  !  I  shouldn't  like  it  myself,  but  law's 
law  and  duty's  duty,  and  so  on,  you  know  the  old  tale, 
and  I'm  obleeged  to  do  it." 

He  opened  his  snuff-box  and  offered  it  to  Sir  James, 
who  brusquely  waved  it  aside,  saying,  "  Your  explanation, 
if  you  please,  my  lord  !  " 

"  Damme,  don't  be  peevish !  Smoke  the  Venus  in  the 
lid  ?  Isn't  she  a  sparkler  ?  Wish  I'd  lived  in  the  times 
when  ladies  lay  about  on  seashores  like  it !  I  hate  these 
damned  crinolines.  Saw  Somerset  in  'em  in  the  Pantiles. 
Could  have  pushed  her  over  and  trundled  her  like  a  barrel." 

"  My  lord,"  reiterated  Blount,  "  I  await  your  explana- 
tion." 

/  "  Boot's  on  the  other  leg,"  he  chirped.  "  A'nt  I  pouched 
you  all  cleverly,  stap  me,  seeing  the  ink  on  my  commission's 
hardly  dry  ?  Didn't  think  it  was  in  me  !  " 

"  I  will  take  the  authority  of  your  commission  as  suffi- 
cient, my  lord,  the  times  being  what  they  are.  But  will 
you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  why  you  come  ?  " 

"  Gadso  !  Certainly  !  There's  a  dirty  rascal  in  pewter 
buttons  behind  there — come  here,  sir,  and  let  Sir  James  see 
your  ugly  face  ! — who  says  you're  a  disloyal  person,  a  traitor, 
and  so  forth.  I  don't  believe  him.  I  wouldn't  crack  a  flea 
on  his  unsupported  testimony,  but  he's  in  the  know  of  things, 
and  showed  me  a  commission  from  Mr.  Secretary,  calling 
on  His  Majesty's  liege  subjects,  etc.,  you  know  the  run  of 
it,  and  I  was  bound  to  look  into  it.  Charges  are  charges, 
stap  me  if  they  a'nt.  Don't  come  too  near,  pig's  eyes ! 
Out  with  your  tale  !  " 

His  lordship  plainly  disliked  the  whole  business,  and 
it  was  a  very  awkward  thing  for  Sir  James  that  I  was  here, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  207 

a  circumstantial  piece  of  evidence  against  him.  I  looked 
straight  into  Weir's  eyes  as  he  came  forward,  ungainly  and 
uncertainly,  smiling  half  his  dirty  teeth  bare,  and  mopping 
his  yellowy  face  with  a  dirty  handkerchief.  To  my  astonish- 
ment he  made  not  a  single  sign  of  recognition.  I  was  his 
trump  card,  and  he  left  me  unplayed. 

"  Sir  James  is  a  known  Jacobite,  my  lord  !  "  he  quavered. 

"  Quite  right,  Mr.  Weir,  and  if  you  propose  to  keep  me 
out  of  bed  these  cold  nights  calling  on  known  Jacobites, 
stap  my  vitals,  Mr.  Weir,  if  I  don't  have  you  flung  into  a 
pond  with  a  brick  tied  round  your  sweaty  neck  like  an 
unwanted  pup.  Anything  else  ?  " 

"  This  is  a  Jacobite  plot,  my  lord.  There's  scheming 
and  plotting  against  our  gracious  lord  the  King  agoing  on 
here,  my  lord." 

"  I'll  e'en  have  a  closer  look  at  'em.  Plots  are  damned 
interesting  things,  stap  me  if  they  a'nt,  and  I'm  glad  to  see 
one.  Here's  a  likely  young  fellow,"  striding  up  and  examin- 
ing me.  "  His  is  a  plot  in  a  meat-pie,  it  seems.  There  was 
one  in  a  meal-tub  once,  I  remember,  so  the  meat-pie  does 
look  mighty  suspicious,  Mr.  Weir.  We're  getting  on.  And 
here's  a  plotter  toasting  his  toes.  Not  an  intelligent  member 
of  the  cabal.  Stap  me,  if  he  a'nt  asleep !  I  must  circum- 
ambulate and  have  a  quiz  at  him." 

He  walked  gaily  in  his  play-acting  way  round  Master 
Freake's  chair  on  to  the  hearth  and  then  turned  and  took 
a  peep  at  him.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  so  he  gave  a  great 
shout,  and  then,  recovering  himself,  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laughter.  He  clapped  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  fairly 
swayed  with  merriment.  Master  Freake  looked  at  him  with 
a  sedate  half-smile,  and  said,  "  How  d'ye  do,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  thankee !  "  cried  his  lordship  gaily,  too 
gaily.  "  Damme  !  It's  the  funniest  thing  that's  happened 
since  Noah  came  out  of  the  Ark.  Come  here,  spy  !  Mean 
to  tell  me  this  is  a  Jacobite  ?  " 

As  the  spy  crept  near,  Master  Freake  stood  up,  wheeled 
round  on  him  smartly,  and  said,  "  How  d'ye  do,  Turnditch  ?  " 

"  Stap  me  !  "  cried  his  lordship.     "  His  name's  Weir  !  " 

"  He  will  know  me  better  if  I  call  him  Turnditch,"  said 
Master  Freake  icily. 


208  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

He  spoke  unmistakable  truth.  I  could  see  the  shadow 
of  the  gallows  fall  across  the  man's  face.  What  stiffening 
there  was  in  him  oozed  out,  and  he  stood  there  wriggling 
in  an  agony  of  apprehension,  like  a  worm  in  a  chicken's 
l>eak.  Master  Freake  knew  him  to  the  bottom  of  his  muddy 
soul.  My  Lord  Tiverton  was  a  man  of  another  mould,  but 
he  too  was  in  the  hands  of  his  master.  Plain  John  Freake, 
citizen  of  London,  had  taken  a  hand  in  this  game  of  fate, 
and  had  thrown  double  six. 

This  noble  room  had  seen  the  agonizings  and  rejoicings 
of  a  dozen  generations  of  the  sons  of  men,  but  nothing  to 
surpass  this  scene  in  living  interest.  They  come  back  to 
me  now — the  line  of  blue-and-white  troopers,  still  with 
levelled  carbines ;  the  stolid  Welshman,  as  indifferent  as 
Snowdon ;  the  dapper  nobleman,  still  polished  and  light- 
some, no  longer  play-acting  but  rather  vaguely  anxious ; 
the  high-minded  troubled  Jacobite,  fear  for  his  wife  and 
babe  gnawing  at  his  heart ;  the  spy,  Weir  or  Turnditch, 
with  the  noose  he  had  made  for  another  drawn  round  his 
own  neck ;  Master  John  Freake,  the  quiet,  Quakerlike 
merchant,  whose  power  was  rooted  deep  in  those  far  haunts 
of  the  world's  trade,  so  that  we  were  here  shadowed  and 
protected  by  the  uttermost  branches  thereof.  Last  of  all 
I  remember  myself,  with  my  heart  thrumming  good-morrow 
to  Margaret. 

"  Come  now,  Houndsditch,  or  Turndish,  or  whatever  it 
is,"  said  his  lordship.  "  Precisely  what  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

The  poor  devil  had  nothing  to  say.  He  was  aflame  to 
be  off  and  out  of  Master  Freake' s  eyesight.  He  choked  up 
something  about  mistakes,  and  zeal,  and  forgiveness. 

"  That's  enough  !  Out  you  go,  the  whole  damn  lot  of 
you  !  "  cried  my  lord.  These  not  being  familiar  military 
words  of  command,  the  men  stuck  there  like  skittles. 
"  Ground  arms,  or  whatever  it  is  !  "  he  continued.  "  About 
turn  !  Quick  march  !  " 

Their  sergeant  took  charge  of  them  and  they  filed  out. 
Sir  James  followed  them  and  became  their  host,  routing 
out  servants  to  wait  on  them. 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  on  Sir  James,  his  lordship 
hastened  to  Master  Freake's  side,  and  entered  into  low  and 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  209 

earnest  conversation  with  him.  I  walked  across  to  the 
folios,  hoping  to  find  amongst  them  an  editio  princeps  of 
Virgil,  but  was  recalled  by  a  loud  "  Oliver  "  from  Master 
Freake. 

"  Oliver,"  he  said,  when  I  reached  his  chair,  "  I  should 
like  you  to  know  the  most  noble  the  Marquess  of 
Tiverton ! " 

I  bowed,  and  his  lordship  bowed  in  reply,  and  said  light 
and  pleasant  things  about  our  meeting.  Then,  vowing  he 
was  monstrous  hungry,  he  tackled  the  venison  pasty,  summon- 
ing me  to  sit  opposite  him. 

"  Gadso  !  I  am  sharp-set,"  he  said,  and  indeed  he  ate 
with  the  zeal  of  a  plough-lad.  He  pushed  me  over  his 
snuff-box,  which  nearly  made  me  sneeze  before  I  took  the 
snuff. 

"  It  really  is  a  masterpiece,"  he  said,  in  a  pause  between 
pasty  and  pie.  "  I  shall  never  hear  the  last  of  it  at  the 
'  Cocoa  Tree  '  and  White's.  Stap  me,  I  shan't  want  to  ! 
It's  too  good.  The  tale  will  keep  my  memory  green  when 
that  old  mummy,  Newcastle,  is  dust  at  last." 

"  What  tale  ?  "  said  I. 

"  D'ye  know  why,  a  month  ago,  I  badgered  Newcastle 
into  getting  me  a  company  in  the  Blues  ?  " 

"  Not  the  faintest  idea  !  " 

He  leaned  across  the  table  and,  from  under  cover  of  me, 
nodded  towards  Master  Freake,  now  talking  with  the  Welsh- 
man. "  To  get  out  of  his  way  !  "  he  whispered. 

I  looked  incredulous,  whereupon  his  lordship  tapped  his 
pocket  significantly. 

"  He's  a  damned  good  fellow.  He  gave  me  another  six 
months  without  a  murmur.  Wish  I'd  known  !  There'd 
have  been  no  campaigning  for  me.  I  prefer  the  Mall  !  " 

So  he  said  now,  yet  he  was  as  steady  as  a  wall  and  as  bold  • 
as  a  lion  at  Culloden.  He  came  of  a  great  stock,  and  greatness 
was  natural  to  him.  The  play-acting  and  gaming  was  only 
the  fringe  that  Society  had  tacked  on  to  him.  It  lessoned 
me  finely  to  see  him  when  Sir  James  came  back  into  the  room. 
Tiverton  knew  the  position  by  instinct. 

"  Sir  James,"  he  said,  "  I  crave  a  word  with  you." 

"  At  your  service,  my  lord." 

14 


210  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  I  will  be  frank,"  continued  his  lordship.  "  I  ask  no 
questions.  I  make  no  inferences.  I  simply  point  out  that 
the  spy  fell  to  pieces  because  he  found  Mr.  Freake  here." 

"  I  observed  so  much,  my  lord  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  why,"  said  the  Marquess  dubiously. 

"  I  could  hang  him  at  the  next  assizes,"  interrupted 
Master  Freake. 

"  I  see.  He  doesn't  want  to  be  hanged,  of  course.  No 
one  does.  It's  a  perfectly  natural  feeling.  So  he  crumpled 
up  at  the  prospect." 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  Sir  James. 

"  I  allowed  him  to  crumple  up,  and  I  took  full  advantage 
of  the  fact.  You  saw  so  much  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  Now,  Sir  James,  you,  as  a  Blount,  that  is,  as  a  man 
bearing  an  honoured  name,  are  under  the  strictest  obligation 
to  me  to  see  that  I  can  say,  if  my  conduct  is  challenged,  that  I 
saw  nothing  here  because  there  was  nothing  to  see.  I  have 
put  myself  absolutely  in  your  power,  Sir  James.  Whoever 
else  joins  the  Prince,  you  must  not,  or  you  take  my  head  along 
with  you." 

It  was  well  and  truly  said,  and  there  was  no  posing  about 
it.  Sir  James  Blount's  problem  was  settled.  He  taught 
me  something  too,  for  all  he  did  was  to  put  out  his  hand. 

"  There's  an  end  of  Tundish  !  "  said  Tiverton,  grasping 
it  firmly.  "  And  it's  the  best  end  too,  for  the  Highland  army 
hasn't  a  snowball's  chance  in  hell." 

He  turned  at  once  to  banter  me  on  my  indifference  to 
art,  seeing  that  I  had  sniffed  at  a  miniature  by  one  of  the  most 
famous  artists  at  the  French  Court.  I  let  him  rattle  on,  for 
my  eye  was  on  Sir  James,  who  was  rolling  something  in  his 
hands.  A  moment  later  the  Prince's  letter  went  up  in  a 
tongue  of  flame  and  burnt  along  with  it  the  Jacobitism  of  the 
Blounts. 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  his  lordship's  valuation 
of  art  and  artists  of  the  French  school,  and  his  sergeant 
entered  to  say  that  his  men  were  in  the  saddle. 

"  Campaigning  be  damned  !  "  said  his  captain  wearily. 

"  Beg  pardon,  my  lord,"  added  the  sergeant,  "  but  Mr. 
What's-his-name  has  cut  off." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  211 

"  Good  riddance.  He's  gone  back  to  his  crony  at  the 
'  Black  Swan.'  ' 

"  Yes,  my  lord.  T'other's  a  sergeant  in  my  Lord  Brocton's 
dragoons." 

"  Ah,  I  saw  they  were  hob-and-nob  together.  A  fellow 
with  a  ditch  in  his  face  you  could  lay  a  finger  in  !  " 

Fortunately  for  me,  the  Marquess  was  busy  with  a  last 
glass  of  wine.  Here  was  ill  news  with  a  vengeance.  I  had 
got  out  of  the  smoke  into  the  smother. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Master  Freake,  "  there  is  a  man  of  mine, 
one  Dot  Gibson,  at  the  '  Black  Swan,'  and  I  shall  be  greatly 
beholden  to  you  if  you  will  let  your  sergeant  carry  him  a 
note  of  instructions  from  me." 

"  Stap  me !  I'll  take  it  myself,"  cried  his  lordship 
heartily. 

Master  Freake  went  to  a  table  to  write  the  note.  I  knew 
now  who  it  was  that  had  given  me  the  warning.  My  lord 
pocketed  the  note  and  we  all  crept  quietly  down  to  the  main 
door  to  see  him  off.  The  guards  made  a  gallant  show  in  the 
brilliant  moonlight,  and  Master  Freake,  taking  my  arm, 
dragged  me  out  to  watch  them  canter  across  the  stretch 
of  meadow,  and  drop  out  of  sight  down  the  hill. 

"  Sleep  in  peace,  Oliver,"  he  said.  "  Dot  Gibson  will  give 
us  early  news  of  the  movements  of  the  enemy." 

Then  we  strolled  back,  talking  of  the  Colonel  and  Margaret. 


CHAPTER    XIX 
WHAT  CAME  OF  FOPPERY 

IT  was  eight   by  the   clock   next   morning  before  I  set 
about    my    third    commission.      To    begin    with,    the 
bed   pulled,  and   small   wonder,  since    I  had   not   slept 
in  a  bed  since  leaving  home.     Then  I  took  my  fill  of  the 
books,  finding  among  them  no  less  a  prize  than  the  editio 
princeps  of  Virgil,  printed  at  Rome  in  1469,  which  it  was 
hard  to  let  go.     Next  there  was  Baby  Blount  to  be  waited 


212  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

upon,  and  his  mother,  a  pretty,  appealing  lady,  with  the 
glory  of  motherhood  about  her  like  a  fairy  garment.  Part 
of  the  ceremonial  was  the  putting  of  Master  Blount  into  my 
arms,  which  was  done  very  gingerly,  with  abundant  cautions 
and  precautions  against  my  crushing  or  dropping  him.  He 
had  a  skin  like  white  satin  and  a  silvery  down  on  his  charming 
little  head.  Altogether  I  thought  him  a  most  desirable 
possession  for  a  man  to  have,  and  wished  he  was  mine,  par- 
ticularly when,  to  his  father's  outspoken  chagrin,  instead 
of  puling  he  stared  steadily  at  me  with  big  blue  eyes  and 
smiled. 

"  Precious  ikkle  ducksy-wucksy,"  said  his  mother. 

"  Ugly  ikkle  monkey-wonkey,"  cried  his  father.  "  Why 
the  deuce  can't  he  smile  at  me  ?  " 

"  Try  him  !  "  said  I,  handing  him  over  to  Sir  James, 
glad  to  be  free  of  the  responsibility. 

Baby  Blount  looked  at  his  father  and  smiled  again,  and 
it  was  a  revelation  to  me  of  the  deepest  and  finest  feelings  of 
a  man's  heart  to  see  how  ravished  Sir  James  was  with  this 
first  smile  of  his  baby  boy's. 

"  It's  you  that's  changed,  James,  not  our  little  darling," 
said  his  wife.  "  He'll  always  smile  at  a  face  as  happy  as 
yours  is  this  morning." 

I  lingered  through  these  delightful  moments  over  an  old 
book  and  a  new  baby  with  an  easy  conscience,  for  Master 
Freake  had  brought  me  news  which  made  my  third  task 
much  easier.  I  had  not  told  him  what  I  had  in  hand  to  do, 
thinking  it  unfair  to  force  the  knowledge  on  him,  but  he 
must  have  made  a  good  guess  at  it,  for  he  came  to  tell  me 
that  the  latest  news  from  Stone  was  that  the  Duke  was 
moving  south  again  at  top  speed,  with  the  intention  of 
getting  between  the  Prince  and  London  if  he  could.  He 
told  me  further  that  Charles  had  joined  Murray  at  Ashbourne 
in  the  small  hours,  and  that  their  reunited  forces  had  started 
out  for  Derby.  In  all  these  important  matters  he  was,  as  is 
obvious  enough  now,  fully  and  exactly  informed,  and  I  ex- 
pressed my  admiration  of  his  thoroughness. 

"  Business,  my  dear  Oliver,  nothing  but  business.  Some 
great  man  of  old  time  has  said  '  Knowledge  is  power.'  I'm 
expanding  that  a  little  to  fit  these  modern  days.  That's  all." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  213 

"  How  does  the  maxim  run  now,  sir  ?  " 

"  Knowledge  is  money  and  money  is  power,"  said  he, 
with  a  dry  smile. 

Then,  as  to  matters  small  in  themselves  but  of  more 
immediate  concern  to  me,  he  told  me  that  his  man,  Dot 
Gibson,  had  reported  that  the  spy,  Weir,  had  at  an  early 
hour  ridden  off  towards  Stafford,  while  the  sergeant  of 
dragoons  was  still  lurking  at  the  "  Black  Swan."  There  had 
been  long  consultations  between  them  as  if  they  were  acting 
in  concert. 

This  was  likely  to  be  the  case.  It  was  a  noteworthy 
fact  that  the  spy  had  seen  me,  and  had  had  an  opportunity 
of  denouncing  me,  before  Master  Freake  had  bowled  him 
over.  There  was,  therefore,  reason  to  suppose  that  he 
would  in  any  case  have  remained  silent  about  me — the  one 
man  against  whom  his  evidence  was  overwhelming.  The 
sergeant  of  dragoons  would,  of  course,  be  only  too  glad  to 
see  me  out  of  action,  dead  for  choice,  but  in  jail  as  a  useful 
alternative,  yet  the  opportunity  of  putting  me  there  had 
been  let  slip.  I  could  not,  try  how  I  would,  work  out  any 
reasonable  explanation  of  their  conduct. 

I  bade  good-bye  to  the  Grange,  going  off  with  a  pressing 
invitation  in  my  ears  to  return  as  soon  as  possible.  Master 
Freake  walked  at  my  saddle  till  we  were  out  of  earshot  of 
the  group  in  the  open  doorway. 

"  We  meet  again  at  Derby,  Oliver,"  he  said,  holding 
out  his  hand. 

"  That's  good  news,  sir.  I  shall  be  there  by  six  o'clock 
to-night." 

"  Keep  a  good  look  out  for  the  sergeant.  He  and  his 
precious  master  mean  to  have  you  if  they  can.  They've  a 
heavy  score  against  you,  lad." 

"  It  will  be  heavier  before  the  account's  settled, 
«ir." 

"  You  shall  have  your  tilt  at  'em,  Oliver.  You'll  enjoy 
it,  and  I've  no  fear  as  to  the  result.  But  take  care  !  Ride 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  keep  your  eye  on  every 
bush.  Brocton  has  half  a  regiment  of  thorough-paced 
blackguards  at  his  service  and  will  compass  hell  itself  to 
fetch  you  down.  What  about  money  ?  " 


214  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  I've  plenty  and  to  spare,"  I  answered,  "  thanks  to 
your  generous  loan." 

"  No  loan,  lad,  but  my  first  contribution  to  the  expenses 
of — what  shall  we  say  for  safety  ?  Your  tour.  How  will 
that  do  ?  " 

"  Nay,  sir " 

"  Yea,  Oliver,  and  no  more  said.  My  favourite  rate  is 
ten  per  cent.  You've  let  me  off  with  a  paltry  two." 

"  I  do  not  like  joking  in  money  matters,  sir." 

"  John  Freake  joking  in  money  matters  ? "  said  he, 
smiling.  "  Tell  it  not  when  you  get  to  town,  Oliver,  or 
you'll  be  the  ruin  of  a  hard-won  reputation.  I  sent  you 
sixty  guineas  odd." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Which  is,  to  be  precise,  slightly  less  than  two  per  cent 
of  what  you  saved  me  when  you  snatched  me  out  of  the 
dirty  grip  of  Brocton's  rascals.  I  had  a  good  thick  slice 
of  his  lordship's  patrimony  in  my  pocket.  Off  you  go,  lad  ! 
Sultan  is  impatient  at  my  trifling.  So  ho  !  You  beauty ! 
Good-bye !  " 

"  Good-bye,  sir !  "  I  cried  heartily,  swinging  my  new 
hat  in  a  grand  bow. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  having  ridden  hard 
and  far  without  bite  or  sup,  I  came  out  in  a  little  hamlet 
huddled  about  the  great  London  road  where  it  ran  along  the 
hem  of  a  forest,  and  drew  rein  before  the  "  Seven  Stars."  I 
was  to  be  in  presence  with  my  report  at  six  o'clock,  and,  as 
Derby  was  only  fifteen  miles  off  and  the  road  one  of  the  best, 
there  was  ample  time  for  Sultan  and  me  to  take  the  rest  and 
refreshment  we  both  stood  in  need  of. 

I  was,  too,  in  need  of  quiet  and  leisure  to  get  my  report 
straightened  out  in  my  mind  ready  for  delivery.  The  large- 
ness and  looseness  of  my  commission  left  everything  to  my 
discretion,  with  the  vexatious  result  that  I  had  discovered 
nothing.  I  had,  indeed,  carried  out  my  orders.  I  had 
been  so  far  west  of  Derby  that  I  had  seen  the  famous  spires 
of  Lichfield  cutting  into  the  sky  like  three  lance-heads, 
and  had  learned  on  abundant  and  trustworthy  evidence 
that  the  Duke's  forces  there  were  leaving  for  the  south, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  215 

under  orders  to  march  with  all  speed  to  their  original  camp 
at  Merriden  Heath.  This  squared  exactly  with  Master 
Freake's  news,  and  was  all  the  stock  of  positive  information 
I  had  got  together. 

Of  the  kind  of  news  the  Prince  would  best  like  to  hear 
there  was  none.  Of  preparations  to  join  him,  none.  Of 
open  well-wishers  to  his  cause,  none.  The  time  when  the 
Stuart  banner  could  rally  a  host  around  it  had  gone  beyond 
recall.  There  was  no  violent  feeling  the  other  way.  People 
simply  did  not  care.  The  old  watchwords  were  powerless. 
The  old  quarrel  had  been  revived  in  a  world  that  had  for- 
gotten it,  and  would  not  be  reminded  of  it.  It  was  Charles 
and  his  Highlanders  against  George  and  his  regiments, 
and  as  the  latter  were  sure  to  win,  nobody  bothered.  It  is 
the  strange  but  exact  truth  that  the  only  sign  I  discovered 
of  the  great  event  in  progress,  was  to  come  across  a  group 
of  four  respectable  men  of  the  middle  station  in  life  bargain- 
ing with  an  innkeeper  for  the  hire  of  a  chaise,  in  which 
they  meant  to  drive  to  watch  the  Highlanders  march  by. 
They  were  very  keen  to  bate  him  a  shilling,  and  as  indifferent 
as  four  oysters  to  the  issues  at  stake. 

Riding  into  the  inn-yard,  I  shouted  to  the  host  to  get  me 
his  best  dinner,  and,  while  it  was  preparing,  I  overlooked 
the  grooming  and  baiting  of  Sultan.  I  left  him  comfortable 
and  content,  and  strolled  indoors  to  look  after  my  own  needs. 

Though  on  the  London  road,  and  only  fifteen  miles  from 
the  scene  of  action,  the  inn  was  quiet.  I  learned  from  the 
host  that  a  courier  had  galloped  through  an  hour  before, 
spurring  southwards,  and  cried  out  from  the  saddle  that  the 
bare-legs  were  only  five  miles  from  Derby  when  he  left. 
Earlier  in  the  day  a  cart  had  driven  through  loaded  up  with 
the  gowns  of  the  town  dignitaries,  "  going  to  Leicester  to 
be  done  up,"  explained  the  host,  delighted  with  his  own 
shrewdness. 

A  hunger-bitten  traveller  with  a  good  dinner  in  front  of 
him  commonly  pays  no  attention  for  the  time  being  to  any- 
thing else.  I  found  two  men  in  the  guest-room,  and,  after 
a  civil  greeting,  which  made  one  of  them  open  his  eyes  and 
mouth  very  uncivilly,  I  sat  down  to  eat,  very  content  with 
the  fare  set  before  me. 


2i 6  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

As  my  hunger  steadily  abated  before  a  steady  attack  on 
a  cold  roast  sirloin  of  most  commendable  quality,  I  began 
to  take  more  interest  in  the  two  men.  In  fact,  more  interest 
in  them  was  forced  on  me  by  the  beginnings  of  a  pretty 
quarrel  between  them,  and  by  the  time  I  had  got  to  the 
cheese,  they,  utterly  regardless  of  my  presence,  were  at  it 
hammer  and  tongs.  The  row  was  about  a  horse-deal  lately 
passed  between  them,  and  there  are  few  things  men  can 
quarrel  about  more  easily  or  more  vigorously.  The  yokel 
who  had  gaped  at  me,  had  been  cheated  by  his  companion, 
and  was  accordingly  resentful. 

Two  men  more  at  odds  in  outward  appearance  could  not 
easily  have  been  found.  The  gaper  was  plain  country,  a 
big,  bulky  man,  with  a  paunch  that,  as  he  sat,  sagged  nearly 
to  his  knees,  a  triple  chin,  and  a  nose  with  a  knobly  end,  in 
shape  and  colour  like  an  overripe  strawberry.  His  com- 
panion was  a  little  fellow,  lean  and  sharp-cut,  with  a  head 
like  a  ferret's.  We  country-siders  know  your  Londoner. 
Many  an  hour  I  had  sat  under  the  clump  of  elms  at  the 
lane-end  and  watched  the  travellers.  Hence,  doubtless, 
my  taste  in  fashionable  head-gear,  like  this  of  mine,  lately 
belonging  to  Swift  Nicks,  now  disposed  carefully  on  the  table 
at  my  side.  I  would  have  wagered  it  against  Joe  Braggs' 
frowsy  old  milking-cap  that  the  little  man  was  a  Londoner. 

Little  as  he  was,  his  cold,  calculating  anger  overbore  his 
antagonist,  who  was  no  great  hand  at  stating  his  case,  good 
as  it  was. 

"  The  landlord  knows  me  and  knows  the  gelding,"  said 
the  little  man.  "  You  know  less  about  horses  than  a  Mile 
End  tapster.  Fetch  him  in,  and  let  him  decide.  I  suppose 
you  rode  him  !  " 

"  What  a  God's  name,  d'ye  think  I  bought  him  for,  Mr. 
Wicks  ?  To  look  at  ?  " 

"  By  the  look  of  you  I  should  think  you  bought  him  as  a 
present  for  a  baby.  Sixteen  stone  six  if  you're  an  ounce, 
and  riding  a  two-year-old  !  Damme,  no  wonder  he  throws 
out  curbs  !  Fetch  the  landlord,  I  tell  ye  !  " 

Out  burst  the  fat  man  in  a  great  fury,  and  in  a  minute  or 
two  came  back  with  the  landlord  and  an  ostler.  Then  the 
wrangle  became  hotter  and  more  amusing  than  ever. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  217 

Finally,  the  little  man,  losing  all  patience,  drew  a  pistol, 
whereon  the  big  man  ran  backwards,  shrieking  "  Murder !  " 
Not  heeding  where  he  was  going,  he  tumbled  up  against  my 
table,  and  jammed  it  hard  against  my  midriff. 

I  attempted  to  rise  but  was  too  late.  The  fat  man 
seized  my  wrists,  the  landlord  and  the  ostler  ran  round,  and 
pinned  me  to  the  chair,  and  the  little  man  held  the  barrel  of 
the  pistol  to  my  forehead. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Swift  Nicks  !  "  said  he. 

I  dare  say  my  liver  was  turning  the  colour  of  chalk,  but, 
though  I'm  too  easily  frightened,  I'm  always  too  proud  to 
show  it,  which  has  unjustly  got  me  the  character  of  being  a 
brave  man. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Too-swift  Wicks  !  "  I  retorted. 

"  What  d'ye  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  plainly  disconcerted. 

"  I  mean,"  said  I,  "  that  the  zeal  of  your  office  hath 
eaten  you  up." 

"  What  the  hell  does  he  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  appealing  to 
the  company. 

"  Damn  my  bones  if  I  know,"  answered  the  host.  "  I've 
'eerd  parson  say  sommat  like  it  in  church  a  Sundays.  He's 
one  of  these  'ere  silly  scholards." 

"  They  do  say  as  how  Swift  Nicks  is  a  scholard,"  put  in 
the  ostler  wisely. 

"  There's  no  time  for  chattering,"  said  I.  "  Take  me  at 
once  before  a  justice.  That's  the  law,  and  you  know  it.  I 
warn  you  that  any  delay  will  be  dangerous.  My  cocksure 
friend  here  is  already  in  for  actions  for  assault,  battery, 
slander,  false  imprisonment,  and  the  Lord  knows  what. 
My  gad,  sir,  I'll  give  you  a  roasting  at  the  assizes.  Take  me 
off  at  once  to  the  nearest  magistrate.  I'll  have  the  law  on 
you  before  another  hour's  out." 

My  energy  flustered  the  Londoner,  who  had  sense  enough 
to  know  the  peril  of  his  being  wrong,  but  the  fat  man,  dull 
as  an  ox,  cheered  him  on. 

"  He's  Swift  Nicks  right  enough,  Master  Wicks,"  he  said. 
"  Pocket  full  of  pistols,  four  on  'em  ;  a  chap  of  the  right 
size,  a  matter  of  six  feet  odd  ;  hereabouts,  where  he  is  known 
to  be  ;  speaks  like  a  gentleman  ;  and,  damme,  I  saw  Swift 
Nicks  myself  with  my  own  eyes  not  two  yards  off,  and 


218  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

that's  Swift  Nicks'  hat  or  I'm  a  Dutchman;  I  know'd  it 
again  the  minute  he  walked  into  the  room." 

"  Damn  the  hat !  "  cried  I  heartily  enough,  but  feeling 
very  crestfallen  at  this  telling  piece  of  evidence  against  me. 

The  little  man  snatched  it  up  and  looked  carefully  at  the 
inside  of  it,  a  thing  I  had  never  done,  being  wrapped  up  in 
its  outside. 

"  There  y'are  !  "  he  cried  triumphantly.  "  '  S.  N.  His 
hat.'  What  more  d'ye  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  the  nearest  magistrate,"  cried  I. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wicks,"  said  the  fat  man,  "  he  can  easily 
have  what  he  wants.  It's  only  a  matter  o'  two  mile  to  the 
Squire's." 

"  Squire'll  welly  go  off  'is  yed,"  remarked  the  host.  "  He's 
that  sot  on  seeing  Swift  Nicks  swing." 

"  Then  he'll  very  likely  go  bail  for  Mr.  Wicks,"  said  I. 

"  Will  he  ?  "  said  Mr.  Wicks  sourly. 

"  If  he  don't,"  I  retorted,  "  you'll  spend  the  night  in 
Leicester  jail." 

"  They  do  say  as  'ow  Swift  Nicks  is  a  rare  plucked  'un," 
said  the  ostler. 

"  Then  they're  liars,"  said  I. 

I  was  handcuffed  and  put  on  Sultan,  with  my  feet  roped 
together  under  his  belly.  Then  we  started  off,  and  the 
whole  village,  which  had  dozed  in  peace  with  the  Highlanders 
only  five  hours  off,  turned  out  gaily  and  joyously  to  see 
Swift  Nicks.  The  landlord  left  his  guests,  and  the  ostler 
his  horses,  to  go  with  us,  and  at  least  a  score  of  villagers, 
mostly  women,  joined  in  and  made  a  regular  pomp  of  it. 
Once  or  twice  we  met  a  man  who  cried,  "  What's  up  ?  " 
and  at  the  response,  "  Swift  Nicks,"  he  added  himself  to 
the  procession  and  was  regaled,  as  he  trudged  along,  with 
an  account  of  the  affray  at  the  inn.  My  capture  was  ex- 
ceedingly popular,  and  they  gloated  to  my  face  over  the 
doom  in  store  for  me,  wrangling  like  rooks  as  to  the  likeliest 
spot  for  my  gibbet.  The  majority  fixed  it  at  the  Copt  Oak, 
where,  as  they  reminded  me  with  shrill  curses,  I  had  murdered 
poor  old  Bet  o'  th'  Brew'us  for  a  shilling  and  sixpence.  It 
was  a  relief  to  hear  the  host  shout  to  Master  Wicks,  "  Yon's 
th'  Squire's  1  " 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  219 

We  trooped  up  to  a  fair  stone  house  of  ancient  date  with 
a  turret  at  the  tip  of  each  wing.  My  luck  was  clean  out. 
The  Squire  was  not  yet  back  home  from  hunting,  for  he  went 
out  with  the  hounds  every  day  the  scent  would  lie.  He 
had  ridden  far,  or  was  belated,  or  his  horse  had  foundered, 
and  there  was  no  telling,  said  his  ruddy  old  butler,  when  he 
would  be  back.  So  the  villagers  were  driven  off  like  cattle, 
Sultan  was  stabled,  and  we  five  were  accommodated  in  the 
great  hall,  for  the  host  and  the  ostler  stayed  on  the  ground 
that  so  dangerous  a  villain  as  Swift  Nicks  wanted  a  strong 
guard.  They  put  me  under  the  great  chimney  and  sat. 
round  me,  in  a  half  circle,  each  man  with  a  loaded  pistol 
in  one  hand  and  a  jug  of  ale  in  the  other.  The  Squire's  lady 
came  in  and  stood  afar  off  examining  me,  and  I  saw  that 
she  was  in  deadly  fear  of  me,  handcuffed  and  guarded  as  I 
was. 

Over  an  hour  crawled  by,  taking  with  it  my  last  chance 
of  getting  into  Derby,  with  my  task  accomplished,  by  six 
o'clock.  What  would  Margaret  think  of  me  ?  Her  obvious 
pride  in  the  honour  the  Prince  had  conferred  upon  me  by 
selecting  me  as  his  personal  helper,  had  been  a  great  delight 
to  me,  and  now  I  had  failed  him  and  disquieted  her.  The 
thought  made  me  rage,  and  I  gave  my  captors  black  looks 
worthy  of  any  tobie-man  on  the  King's  highway. 

At  last  relief  came  in  the  shape  of  the  Squire's  youngest 
son,  a  stout  lad  of  some  twelve  years  old,  who  raced  in,  rod 
in  hand,  and  made  up  to  me  without  a  trace  of  fear.  He 
was  in  trouble  about  his  rod,  having  snapped  the  top 
joint  in  unhandily  dealing  with  a  fine  chub.  After  some 
wrangling,  I  got  my  hands  freed,  and  set  about  splicing  the 
joint. 

"  They  do  say,"  said  I  mockingly,  "  as  how  Swift  Nicks 
is  a  good  hand  at  splicing  fishing-rods." 

"  I  never  'eerd  tell  of  that'n,"  said  the  stolid  ostler. 

"  Are  you  really  Swift  Nicks,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  lad,  looking 
steadily  at  me  with  frank,  innocent  eyes. 

"  No  more  than  you  are  Jonathan  Wild  or  Prester  John, 
my  son,"  I  answered. 

"  Then  who  are  you  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  I'm  a  poor  splicer  of  fishing-rods.     I  get  my  living 


220  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

by  riding  about  the  country  on  a  fine  horse,  with  one  pair 
of  pistols  in  my  holsters  and  another  pair  in  my  pocket, 
looking  for  nice  little  boys  with  broken  fishing-rods,  and 
mending  'em — the  rods,  not  the  boys — so  that  father  never 
finds  it  out  and  the  rod's  better  than  ever  it  was.  How  big 
was  the  chub  ?  " 

"  That  big !  "  said  he,  holding  his  hands  about  two  feet 
apart. 

"  The  great  advantage,  my  son,  of  having  your  rod 
mended  by  me  is  that  ever  afterwards  you'll  be  able  to  tell 
a  chub  from  a  whale." 

"  Sir,"  said  he  proudly,  "  a  Chartley  never  lies." 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  "  it's  hard  to  say  exactly  how  big  a 
fish  is  when  you've  missed  him.  So  your  name's  Chartley. 
Is  this  Chartley  Towers  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  said  he,  with  a  taking  boyish  pride  ringing  in 
his  voice.  "  We  are  the  Chartleys  of  Chartley  Towers.  We 
go  back  to  Edward  the  Third." 

Did  ever  man  enjoy  such  fat  luck  as  mine  ?  I  had  been  as 
hard  beset  as  a  nut  in  the  nutcrackers.  To  prove  that  I  was 
not  Swift  Nicks  I  should  have  to  prove  that  I  was  Oliver 
Wheatman.  The  Bow  Street  runner  would  see  to  that,  for, 
as  Swift  Nicks,  I  was  worth  fifty  guineas  to  him,  a  sum  of 
money  for  which  he  would  have  hanged  half  the  parish 
without  a  twinge.  Cross  or  pile,  I  should  lose  the  toss. 
Drive  away  the  cart !  Such  had  been  my  thoughts,  and  now 
a  lad's  young  pride  had  snatched  me  out  of  danger.  I  grew 
quite  merry  over  the  splicing,  and  told  young  Chartley 
all  about  my  fight  with  the  great  jack. 

The  job  was  near  on  finished  when  there  was  a  rattle  of 
hoofs  without,  and,  a  minute  later,  the  door  was  flung  open 
and  in  swept  a  torrent  of  yapping  foxhounds,  followed  by 
a  big,  hearty,  noisy  man  in  jack-boots  and  a  brown  scratch 
bob- wig. 

"  Dinner  !  Dinner  !  "  he  shouted  to  his  wife,  who  came 
in  to  meet  him.  "  The  best  run  o'  the  year,  lass  !  Thirty 
miles  before  he  earthed,  the  dogs  running  breast-high  every 
yard  of  it,  and  the  very  devil  of  a  dig-out  !  There  was  only 
me  and  parson  and  young  Bob  Eld  o'  Seighford  in  at  the 
death.  Dinner,  dinner,  my  lass !  I  could  eat  the  side  of 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  221 

a  house.  Hallo,  damme !  What  art  doing  here.  Jack 
Grattidge  ?  " 

The  question  was  put  to  the  host,  who  was  shuffling  down 
the  hall  to  meet  him.  The  Squire  slashed  the  dogs  silent 
with  his  half -hunter  to  catch  the  reply. 

"  Please,  y*r  honour,"  said  the  host,  "  we've  copped 
Swift  Nicks." 

••  By  G !     You  a'nt !  " 

"  We  "an,"  declared  the  host. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  roared  the  Squire.  "  That's  news  !  I  owe 
you  a  guinea  for  it,  Jack." 

He  clumped  up  to  the  hearth,  crying  out  as  he  came, 
"  Show  me  the  black,  bloody  scoundrel !  I'd  crawl  to 
London  on  my  hands  and  knees  to  watch  him  turned  off." 

Seeing  me  engaged  in  the  innocent  task  of  mending  his 
lad's  fishing-rod,  with  the  lad  himself  at  my  knees  intent  on 
the  work,  he  took  Mr.  Wicks  for  the  highwayman,  and 
cursed  and  swore  at  him  hard  enough  to  rive  an  oak-tree. 
He  was,  indeed,  so  hot  and  heady  that  it  was  some  minutes 
before  his  mistake  could  be  brought  home  to  him.  By  the 
time  he  realized  that  the  man  mending  the  rod  was  Swift 
Nicks,  he  had  fired  off  all  his  powder,  and  only  stared  at  me 
with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I,  very  politely,  "  that,  as  you've  been 
hunting,  the  chestnut  is  still  on  the  hob." 

"  I'm  damned  !  "  says  he,  and  flops  down  into  his  elbow- 
chair. 

In  the  end  we  made  a  treaty,  to  Mr.  Wicks'  great  disgust, 
who  saw  the  guineas  slipping  through  his  ringers.  Nor  was 
the  Squire  less  aggrieved  at  first,  for  clearly  it  was  to  him  a 
matter  of  high  concern  to  nail  Swift  Nicks. 

"  What's  it  matter  to  us  here  who's  got  a  crown  on  his 
head  in  London  ?  "  he  said.  "  London-folk  care  nothing 
for  us,  and  we  care  nothing  for  them.  But  Swift  Nicks 
does  matter.  We  want  him  hung.  No  man  about  here 
with  any  sense  bothers  about  your  politics  except  at  election- 
times,  when  politics  means  a  belly  full  of  beer  and  a  fist  full 
of  guineas  for  every  damned  tinker  and  tallow-chandler  in 
Leicester.  But  you,  or  that  bloody  villain  Swift  Nicks, 


222  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

if  you  a'nt  him,  keep  us  sweating-cold  o'  nights.    To  hell 
with  your  politics  !     Hang  me  Swift  Nicks  !  " 

The  terms  of  our  treaty  were  that  I  was  to  remain  peace- 
ably and  make  a  night  of  it,  giving  my  word  to  majce  no 
attempt  to  escape  or  harm  anyone.  In  the  meantime,  and 
at  my  proper  charges,  a  post  was  to  be  sent  to  fetch  Nance 
Lousely  and  her  father  to  give  evidence  on  my  behalf. 

"  DEAR  GHOSTIE," — I  wrote  to  her, — "I  am  in  great  danger 
because  a  red-nosed  man  vows  I  am  Swift  Nicks.  I  want 
you  and  your  father  to  come  and  prove  he's  an  ass.  If  you 
don't  I  am  to  be  hung  on  a  gibbet  at  a  place  called  the 
Copt  Oak,  and  I  can't  abide  gibbets,  for  they  are  cold  and 
draughty.  So  come  at  once,  my  brave  Nance  ! — Your  friend, 

"  O.  W." 

A  groom  was  fetched  and  I  told  him  how  to  get  to  Job 
Lousely's.  He  was  well  mounted  from  the  Squire's  stables 
and  set  off.  However  quickly  he  did  his  business,  it  would 
be  many  hours  before  he  could  be  back.  So  I  settled  down 
to  make  a  night  of  it. 

There  was  nothing  original  in  the  Squire's  way  of  making 
a  night  of  it.  The  parson  who  had  been  in  at  the  death 
and  who,  during  the  settlement  of  my  affair,  had  been  busy 
in  the  stables,  now  joined  us  at  dinner.  He  was  but  lately 
come  from  Cambridge,  at  which  seat  of  learning  the  chief 
books  appeared  to  be  Bracken's  Farriery  and  Gibson  on  the 
Diseases  of  Horses,  with  Hoyle's  Whist  as  lighter  reading  for 
leisured  hours.  He  was  a  hard  rider,  a  hard  swearer,  and  a 
hard  drinker,  and,  after  being  double  japanned,  as  he  called 
it,  by  a  friendly  bishop,  had  been  pitchforked  by  the  Squire 
into  a  neighbouring  parish  of  three  hundred  a  year  in  order 
that  the  Squire's  dogs  and  hounds,  and  the  game  and  poachers 
on  the  estate,  might  have  the  benefit  of  his  ministrations. 
He  had,  however,  sense  enough  to  buy  good  sermons.  "  At 
any  rate  the  women  tell  me  they're  good,"  explained  the 
Squire.  "  I  can't  say  for  myself,  for  Joe's  a  reasonable  cock, 
and  always  shuts  up  as  soon  as  I  wake  up." 

The  Bow  Street  runner,  Mr.  Wicks,  and  the  red-nosed 
petty  constable  of  the  hundred,  who  answered  to  the  name 
of  Pinkie  Yates,  were  of  the  party.  I  ate  little  and  drank 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  223 

less,  but  the  others  emptied  the  bottles  at  a  great  pace  and 
were  soon  hot  with  drink.  One  brew,  which  the  huntsmen 
quaffed  with  much  zest,  I  insisted,  out  of  regard  for  my 
stomach,  on  passing  round  untouched,  though  the  men  of 
law  took  their  share  like  heroes,  and,  I  doubt  not,  thought 
they  were  for  once  hob-nobbing  with  the  gods.  The  manner 
of  it  was  thus.  The  parson  drew  from  his  pocket  a  leg  of  the 
fox  they  had  killed  that  day,  and,  stinking,  filthy,  and  bloody 
as  it  was,  squeezed  and  stirred  it  in  a  four-handled  tyg  of 
claret.  In  this  evil  compound  the  Squire  solemnly  gave  us 
the  huntsman's  toast : 

"  Horses  sound,  Dogs  hearty, 
Earth's  stopped,  and  Foxes  plenty." 

The  parson  then  hiccoughed  a  song  for  which  he  should 
have  been  put  in  the  stocks,  after  which  Mr.  Wicks,  with 
three  empty  bottles  and  three  knives  to  stand  for  the  gallows, 
gave  us  a  vivid  account  of  the  turnmg-off  of  the  famous 
Captain  Suck  Ensor,  who  kicked  and  twitched  for  ten 
minutes  before  his  own  claimed  him. 

It  was  five  o'clock  next  morning  before  my  courier  re- 
turned with  Nance  Lousely  and  her  father.  I  had  gone  to 
sleep  in  the  Squire's  elbow-chair  before  the  hall  fire,  with 
the  zealous  thief-takers  in  attendance,  turn  and  turn  about, 
as  sentries  over  me,  fifty  guineas  being  well  worth  guard- 
ing. The  butler  watched  at  the  door,  wakefully  anxious  to 
earn  the  crown  I  had  promised  him.  The  noise  he  made  in 
unchaining  and  unbolting  the  door  awakened  me,  and  it 
warmed  my  heart  to  see  Nance  standing  timidly  just  inside 
the  hall,  her  hand  in  her  father's,  till  she  spied  me,  when  she 
broke  away  and  ran  up  to  me. 

"  You  knew  I'd  come,  sir,  didn't  you?"  she  said,  appealing 
to  me  more  with  her  pretty  anxious  face  than  by  her  words. 

"  Of  course,  ghostie  !  "  I  replied  promptly. 

"Thank  you,  sir!"  she  said,  with  evident  relief.  At  a 
trace  of  doubt  in  my  words  or  face,  she  would  have  broken 
down. 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  ghostie,"  said  I.  "  Sit  down  and  get 
warm !  And  how  are  you.  Job  ?  Much  obliged  to  you 
both." 


224  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  We'n  ridden  main  hard  to  get  here,  sir.  Your  mon 
didna  get  four  'ouse  afore  one  o'clock,  an'  we  wor  on  the 
way  afore  ha'f-past.  Gom  !  We  wor  that'n.  Our  Nance 
nearly  bust.  Gom,  she  did  that'n." 

"  Your  Nance  is  a  darling,"  said  I,  stroking  her  disordered 
hair. 

At  my  request  backed  by  a  promise  to  turn  the  crown 
into  half  a  guinea,  the  butler  got  them  some  breakfast. 
Fortunately  the  Squire  and  the  parson  were  due  at  a  duck- 
shooting  ten  miles  off  by  seven  o'clock,  and  so  were  stirring 
early.  My  matter  was  soon  settled.  The  Squire  sat  magis- 
terially in  his  elbow-chair,  and  Nance  and  her  father  told 
their  tale,  precisely  as  I  had  told  it  before  them.  It  cleared 
me  and  made  the  thief-catchers  look  mightily  confused  and 
sheepish,  and  very  relieved  they  were  when,  as  a  politic  way 
of  staving  off  awkward  questions,  I  grandly  accepted  their 
apologies. 

"  I  knew  you  weren't  Swift  Nicks,"  said  the  Squire, 
"  when  I  saw  you  mending  my  lad's  fishing-rod.  Damme, 
we'll  get  him  though,  before  we've  done." 

He  invited  me  to  join  him  at  breakfast,  where  we  were 
alone  for  the  first  time. 

"Is  it  into  the  fire  or  into  the  fender  ?  "  he  asked 
meaningly. 

I  was  ready  for  him  and,  stopping  with  the  carving  knife 
half-way  through  a  fine  ham  I  was  slicing,  said,  as  if  amazed, 
"  Is  what  into  the  fire  or  into  the  fender  ?  " 

"  The  chestnut,"  said  he. 

"  The  chestnut !  "  I  retorted. 

"  Well,  well !  I  don't  blame  you  for  your  caution,  sir. 
Sir  James  Blount  sounded  me  and  I  know  you  know  my 
reply.  Whether  fire  or  fender  will  make  no  difference  to  me, 
and  I  wouldn't  miss  to-day's  duck-shoot  to  make  it  either." 

"  I  hope  there'll  be  plenty  of  birds,  and  strong  on  the 
wing,"  said  I. 

This  ended  all  the  talk  that  passed  between  us  on  the 
great  event  that  had  so  strangely  brought  us  together.  He, 
the  squire  of  half  a  dozen  villages,  went  duck-shooting  while 
the  destiny  of  England  was  being  settled  just  outside  his 
own  door. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  225 

For  the  second  time  Nance  walked  a  space  by  my  side 
to  wish  me  good-bye. 

"  Nance,  my  sweet  lass,"  said  I,  pulling  Sultan  up,  "  do 
you  know  that  dirty  little  ale-house  near  your  home  ?  " 

"  Where  the  painted  woman  lives,  sir  ?  " 

"  That  very  place  !  Now  Swift  Nicks  is  hiding  there. 
Go  back  and  tell  the  Squire  you  can  find  Swift  Nicks  for  him, 
and  they'll  fill  your  pinner  with  guineas.  You'll  kiss  me  for 
a  pinnerfull  of  guineas,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she  very  decidedly. 

"  Then  kiss  me,  Nance,  because,  though  we  shall  never 
meet  again,  we've  helped  one  another  when  we  did  meet." 

She  put  her  foot  on  mine,  and  I  lifted  her  up  in  my  arms 
and  kissed  her  red  young  lips  and  tear-stained  cheeks. 

"  Good-bye,  Nance  !  " 

"  Good-bye,  sir.     God  bless  you  !  " 

At  a  bend  in  the  road  I  turned  to  look  at  her  again.  She 
was  standing  there,  looking  after  me,  and  waved  her  bonnet 
in  farewell.  I  took  off  my  hat  and  waved  back,  and  then  she 
was  gone  from  sight. 

"  She's  a  good  girl  is  Nance,"  said  I  aloud,  "  and  you, 
curse  you,  are  the  cause  of  all  my  troubles  " —  this  to  my 
new  hat.  My  foppery  had  cost  me  dear.  What  would  the 
Prince  say  to  my  failure  ?  What  would  Margaret  say  ? 
There  would  once  more  be  questionings  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
shadow  of  doubt  on  her  face. 

"  Curse  you  !  "  I  said  again  to  the  hat,  and  then,  with  a 
swift,  strong  sweep  of  my  arm,  sent  it  spinning  into  a  brook. 

Sultan  showed  his  points.  He  did  ten  miles  in  fifty 
minutes  by  my  watch,  accurate  timing  and  counting  from 
one  milestone  to  another. 

At  last  the  broad  Trent  came  in  sight  and  I  rattled  over 
Swarkston  bridge,  only  to  be  pulled  up  on  the  other  side  by 
a  strong  post  of  Highlanders.  My  luck  still  held,  however, 
for  Donald  was  amongst  them,  and,  on  his  explaining  who  I 
was,  the  chief  in  command  let  me  pass. 

Donald  trotted  by  my  side  for  half  a  mile  to  give  me  all 
the  news.  The  Prince  had  lain  all  night  at  Derby  in  the 
Earl  of  Exeter's  house.  There  had  been  many  rumours 
and  wranglings  among  the  chiefs  at  night,  a  council  of  war 

'5 


226  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

was  fixed  for  this  morning,  and  no  one  knew  what  it  was 
all  about.  There  had  been  great  doings  overnight  in  the 
town,  and  he,  Donald,  had  stood  guard  at  the  Prince's 
lodging. 

"  She  dinged  'em  a',  as  I  tell't  ye  she  would,"  he  said. 
"  Losh,  man,  it  was  a  grand  sight  to  see  her  an'  the  bonny 
Maclachlan  gliding  ower  ta  flure  in  ta  dancin'.  They  were 
like  twa  gowden  eagles  gliding  in  the  air  ower  a  ben  wi'  ta 
sun  shinin'  on  it.  Losh,  man,  I  tell  it  ye,  they're  a  bonny, 
bonny  pair,  Got  pless  'em." 

"  Good-bye,  Donald  !  I'll  push  on.  Damn  Swift  Nicks  !  " 
I  cried,  and  gave  Sultan  such  a  dig  in  the  flanks  that  he  shot 
ahead  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow.  I  was  sorry  immediately, 
but  it  was  more  than  I  could  stand. 


CHAPTER   XX 
THE  COUNCIL  AT  DERBY 

IT  was  a  relief  to  get  into  the  chock-full  streets  of  the 
town,  where  thinking  was  impossible  and  good  round 
cursing  indispensable.  Even  with  its  aid  in  clearing  a 
course  for  him,  Sultan  tumbled  over  a  brace  of  Highlanders, 
two  of  a  swarm  of  Maclachlans  and  Macdonalds  who  were 
disputing  possession  of  a  cutler's  shop  on  the  corner  of  Bag 
Street.  After  their  native  fashion,  they  immediately  sus- 
pended their  quarrel  to  unite  against  a  common  foe,  but  on  a 
Maclachlan  recognizing  me  as  a  friend,  went  at  one  another 
again  with  infinite  zest,  and  I  saw  them  hard  at  it  as  I  turned 
into  the  market-square. 

Our  meagre  collection  of  cannon  had  been  packed  here 
with  their  appendancies,  and  I  was  threading  my  way 
through  them  to  the  far  side  of  the  square,  where  stands 
Exeter  House,  and  was  within  a  flick  of  a  pebble  of  it, 
when  the  Colonel  ran  out,  bareheaded  and  eager,  and  came 
up  to  me. 

"  You  young  dog  !     What's  happened  ?  "  said  he. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  227 

"  I've  lost  my  hat,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"  Lost  your Damme !  I'll  have  you  court- 

martialled  yet  before  I've  done  with  you.  Off  you  come ! 
Hello,  my  precious.  Hitch  him  to  the  tail  of  yon  wagon 
and  come  along.  The  Prince  saw  you  from  the  window. 
Steady,  my  beauty !  Come  along,  Noll !  Fancy  a  town 
the  size  of  this  and  not  a  damned  pinch  of  Strasburg 
in  it ! " 

I  hurried  after  him  through  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs. 
Something  big  was  in  hand  beyond  a  doubt,  for  hall  and 
stairs  were  thronged  with  groups  of  Highland  leaders,  and 
in  one  set,  somewhat  apart,  I  saw  Murray  and  Ogilvie.  The 
Colonel  took  no  notice  of  the  curious  looks  that  were  cast 
upon  us,  particularly  me,  but,  after  a  word  with  the  chief 
on  duty,  ushered  me  unceremoniously  into  the  presence. 

Charles  was  taking  short  turns  up  and  down  near  the 
hearth,  but  stopped  as  I  bowed  before  him. 

"  You've  failed  me  !  "  he  said  bitterly. 

"  I  have  carried  out  your  Royal  Highness's  commands 
exactly,  though,  to  my  deep  regret,  not  punctually,  but 
every  hour  I  am  late  has  been  spent  under  arrest.  In  riding 
on  your  business,  sir,  I  have  ridden  up  to  the  foot  of  the 
gallows." 

I  spoke  quietly  but  crisply,  for  I  would  not  be  girded 
at  unjustly,  no,  not  by  a  prince.  He  took  my  meaning, 
and  answered  generously,  "  As  I  knew  you  would,  Master 
Wheatman,  if  need  were." 

The  noble  panelled  room  in  which  we  were  was  set  out 
with  a  long  table  and  many  chairs.  At  the  head  of  the  table 
a  mean-looking  man  was  busily  writing.  At  the  window 
two  other  men  stood  in  earnest  conversation,  and  these,  as 
I  learned  later,  were  the  Irishmen,  Sir  Thomas  Sheridan  and 
Colonel  O'Sullivan. 

"  Leave  your  dispatch,  Mr.  Secretary,  and  come  hither. 
And  you,  too,  gentlemen  !  "  said  Charles. 

So,  with  the  Prince  sitting  near  the  fire  and  the  four 
leaders  ranged  behind  him,  I  stood  and  told  my  tale,  cutting 
out  all  that  was  meaningless  from  their  point  of  view.  As  I 
had  expected,  there  was  no  mistaking  its  effect  on  him.  I 
had  indeed,  come  back  empty-handed.  Yet  he  pulled 


228  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

himself  together  and  said  lightly,  "  Well,  gentlemen,  if  the 
men  of  the  Midlands  are  not  for  me,  they  are  certainly  not 
against  me." 

"  That  is  a  strong  point  in  your  favour,  sir,"  said 
O'Sullivan. 

"  When  I've  thrashed  the  Duke  and  got  into  London," 
said  Charles,  buoyed  up  at  once  by  any  straw  of  comfort, 
"  they'll  be  round  me  like  wasps  round  a  honey-pot.  I 
wasn't  clear  last  night,  but  Master  Wheatman  has  decided 
me.  I  ride  into  London  in  Highland  dress." 

"  I  applaud  the  decision  of  Your  Royal  Highness,"  said 
the  foxy  secretary.  "It  is  a  merited  compliment  to  your 
brave  clansmen."  He  afterwards  ratted  and  so  helped  to 
hang  some  of  the  best  of  them. 

"  Now  for  your  dispatch  to  the  Marquis,"  said  Charles, 
going  towards  the  secretary's  papers.  "  There's  time  to 
look  at  it  before  Murray  and  his  supports  arrive." 
O'Sullivan  walked  softly  to  one  of  the  windows  overlooking 
the  square,  and  we  followed  him. 

"  Faith,  Colonel,"  said  he.  "  The  game's  up  if  we  go 
on." 

"  It  is,"  said  the  Colonel,  tapping  at  his  box.  "  Damn 
this  rappee,  Oliver.  I'd  as  lief  sniff  at  sawdust." 

"  But  if  the  Prince  wants  to  go  on,  I  back  him  up," 
added  O'Sullivan. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Sir  Thomas. 

"  So  do  I,"  echoed  the  Colonel,  "  but,  damme,  I  shall  tell 
him  the  precise  truth  about  the  military  aspect  of  the  situa- 
tion. One's  my  duty  as  a  soldier  just  as  much  as  the  other. 
I  haven't  the  least  objection  to  dying,  but  be  damned  if  I 
want  my  reputation  to  die  with  me.  The  most  you  can  say 
of  rappee,  Oliver,  is  that  it's  better  than  nothing." 

"  That's  just  what  I've  been  thinking,  sir,"  said  I,  with 
equal  gravity,  "  about  my  old  hat." 

"  You're  keeping  that  story  for  Margaret,"  you  young 
dog,  but  she's  bound  to  tell  me.  I  was  out  of  bed  till  two 
o'clock  this  morning,  listening  to  her  clatter  about  getting 
married  quick,  and  walls  of  Troy,  and  ham  and  eggs.  She 
nearly  prated  the  top  of  my  head  off,  and  did  not  kiss  me 
good-night  till  I'd  told  her  for  the  seventeenth  time  that 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  229 

there  was  no  need  to  worry  about  you.  Seventeen  times  " — 
a  vigorous  sniff  and  a  merry  twinkle — "  I  counted  'em." 

It  was  obvious  nonsense,  but  it  pained  me. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  her,  sir,"  I  said  at  last. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  he,  and  turned  to  talk  with  the  Irish- 
men. I  kept  a  sharp  look  out  on  the  square  below,  hoping 
for  a  glimpse  of  Margaret,  paying  no  heed  to  the  earnest  con- 
versation buzzing  in  my  ear.  Princes  and  dominions,  and 
marches  and  battles,  were  nothing  to  me  as  I  stood  there 
fighting  for  mastery  over  myself. 

I  was  pulled  back  from  these  slippery  tracks  of  thought 
by  the  Colonel,  who  gripped  my  arm  and  whispered,  "  Here 
they  come,  Oliver." 

I  looked  to  the  door  and  saw  the  chiefs  filing  into  the  room, 
led  by  Murray,  with  the  greater  ones  immediately  behind 
him  and  the  others  in  due  degree,  till  the  room  was  fairly 
crowded.  Charles  continued  his  colloguing  with  Mr.  Secre- 
tary while  they  disposed  themselves  according  to  their  rank 
in  council,  though  the  Duke  of  Perth  was  pleased  to  take 
his  stand  on  the  hearth  among  some  of  the  smaller  sort.  Sir 
Thomas  Sheridan  and  Colonel  O'Sullivan  left  us  and  seated 
themselves  nearer  the  Prince,  and  when  they  had  done  so, 
and  while  there  was  still  some  noisy  settling  down  to  be 
done,  I  whispered  to  the  Colonel,  "  Oughtn't  I  to  go  out 
now,  sir  ?  " 

"  I'm  for  going  on  to  London,"  said  he,  grinning  at  me 
with  his  eyes,  though  he  kept  the  face  of  a  wooden  image. 
"  And  first  thing  we  do,  Oliver,  we'll  lead  a  desperate  attack, 
you  and  I,  on  a  tobacco-man's.  Damme  !  There's  wagon- 
loads  of  Strasburg  in  London  !  " 

"  Suppose  I  start  off  now,  sir,  and  mark  down  one  or  two 
of  the  primest." 

"  Suppose  you  stay  where  you  are,  lad,"  he  replied. 
"You're  here  by  rights  :  first,  because  the  Prince  asked 
ye  here  and  has  not  dismissed  you,  and  you  never  leave  the 
presence  of  royalty  till  royalty  kicks  you  out ;  secondly  " — 
pausing  to  take  a  pinch  of  rappee  that  would  have  lifted 
the  roof  of  my  head  off — "  because  you  can't  have  less  sense 
than  some  of  these  chatterers.  Council  of  war !  Mob  of 
parliament-men !  " 


230  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

Thus  it  came  about  that,  thanks  to  Swift  Nicks,  I  was 
present  at  the  great  council  which  was  to  decide  the  fate  of 
the  Stuarts.  I  pushed  behind  the  Colonel,  so  that  I  could 
now  and  again  steal  a  peep  for  Margaret.  Just  at  the  last 
minute,  with  Charles  lifting  his  eyes  up  to  begin,  the  door 
opened  again  to  admit  Maclachlan,  red  with  the  haste  he  had 
been  making.  It  made  me  grit  my  teeth  to  see  him,  for  I 
knew  why  he  was  so  hot.  He  had  been  fluttering  around 
Margaret,  and  so  had  lost  count  of  time.  Then  I  stopped 
my  gritting  and  started  grinning.  Much  Margaret  would 
think  of  a  man  who  neglected  his  soldiering  to  dangle  at  her 
apron-strings  ! 

His  Royal  Highness,  after  his  usual  habit,  opened  the 
Council  by  stating  his  own  opinion. 

"  I  have  called  you  together,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  to 
consider  our  next  step.  The  question  is  :  Shall  we  march 
west,  cut  the  Duke's  forces  in  two,  and  so  beat  him,  or,  shall 
we  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  we  are  nearer  London 
than  he  is,  press  on,  and  take  possession  of  the  Capital  ? 
I  am  'strongly  for  the  second  plan." 

"  Damme,  sir  !  Well  put !  "  said  the  Colonel  under  his 
breath.  And  indeed  it  was  so  well  put  that  the  chiefs  looked 
rather  hopelessly  at  one  another,  for  this  was  by  no  means 
the  alternative  that  they  had  in  mind.  It  was  to  them,  as 
soon  appeared,  no  choice  between  south  and  west  that  they 
had  come  to  discuss,  but  the  much  more  important  choice 
between  south  and  north.  For  a  minute  or  two  there  was  a 
muttering  of  Gaelic,  which  the  Prince  did  not  understand, 
at  any  rate,  so  far  as  the  words  were  concerned.  Then  Lord 
George  Murray  rose,  bowed  profoundly  to  the  Prince,  and 
began  the  case  for  the  chiefs. 

"  The  Duke  of  Cumberland,"  he  said,  "  was  that  night 
at  Stafford  with  an  army  of  ten  thousand  foot  and  two  thou- 
sand horse.  Mr.  Wade  was  coming  by  hard  marches  down 
the  east  road  and  could  easily  get  between  His  Royal  High- 
ness's  army  and  Scotland.  They  had  authentic  news  that 
an  army  was  being  encamped  on  the  north  of  London.  If, 
then,  they  marched  to  London  they  would  have  two  armies 
in  their  rear  and  one  in  front  of  them,  and,  high  as  he  rated 
the  valour  and  prowess  of  the  army  he  had  the  honour, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  231 

nnder  His  Royal  Highness,  of  commanding,  it  was  vain  to 
suppose  that  they  could  defeat  three  armies  each  at  least 
twice  as  numerous  as  they.  None  of  the  advantages  on 
which  they  had  relied  when  they  agreed  to  enter  England 
had  been  realized.  They  had  received  no  accession  of 
strength  worth  considering  from  the  English  Jacobites ; 
the  population  were  not  friendly  but  at  all  times  surly  and 
neutral,  and  on  all  possible  occasions  openly  hostile  ;  the 
promised  French  invasion  had  not  even  been  attempted. 
Scotland  they  had  won  for  His  Majesty  and  could  and  should 
keep  it  for  him.  To  do  this  required  them  to  return  with 
all  speed  and  with  undiminished  forces.  On  all  these  grounds 
he,  and  those  for  whom  he  spoke,  implored  His  Royal  High- 
ness to  return  thither  and  consolidate  his  forces  for  a  fresh 
attempt  under  more  favourable  conditions." 

His  lordship  had  spoken  calmly  and  with  no  outward 
sign  of  feeling  except  that,  as  he  got  toward  the  end  of  his 
speech  and  his  drift  became  open  and  manifest,  his  voice 
gained  more  and  more  emphasis  as  he  saw  the  undisguised 
impatience  and  growing  anger  of  Charles.  The  Prince  paid 
no  courteous  attention  to  the  arguments  of  his  chief  military 
adviser,  but  shot  eager  glances  round  the  ring  of  faces,  and 
particularly  at  His  Grace  of  Perth,  who  was  visibly  flattered 
by  this  mute  appeal.  The  Colonel,  who  noted  all  this  by-play, 
was  nettled  by  the  Prince's  indifference  to  military  authority, 
and  whispered,  "  Well  done,  Geordie  Murray  1  Right  as  a 
trivet !  " 

The  speech  done,  the  Prince  struck  his  clenched  fist  on 
the  table  and  said,  "  I  am  for  marching  on  London." 

It  was  plain,  however,  that  the  chiefs  were  against  him 
almost  to  a  man."  Murray  was  clearly  in  the  right,  and  his 
military  skill  and  experience  gave  him  great  authority.  As 
yet  there  was  no  open  murmuring  against  the  Prince  ;  nothing 
but  manifest  determination  not  to  be  won  over  by  his  cajoleries 
or  threats. 

"  Why  should  we  not  go  on  ?  "  demanded  the  Prince 
passionately.  "  Here  we  are,  masters  of  the  heart  of  Eng- 
land. A  quick,  bold  stroke,  and  London  is  ours  The  game 
is  in  our  hands." 

"  Game  ?  "  cried  a  rugged,  headstrong  chief,  Macdonald 


232  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

of  Glencoc.  "  The  game's  up,  sir,  thanks  to  these  beer- 
swilling  English  friends  of  your  house,  who  are  Jacobites 
only  round  a  cosy  fire  with  mugs  in  their  hands." 

"  They  are  only  awaiting  an  earnest  of  victory,"  said 
Charles. 

"  Waiting  for  us  to  do  the  work,"  said  Glencoe  bitterly, 
"  and  then  blithe  they'll  be  to  hansel  the  profits.  We  can 
gang  back  to  Scotland  as  quick  as  we  like  when  we've  ance 
got  London  for  'em  !  " 

There  was  a  growl  of  assent  from  the  chiefs,  but  silence 
fell  again  when  the  venerable  Tullibardine,  too  racked  with 
gout  to  stand,  took  up  the  word. 

He  spoke  as  one  who  had  grown  old  and  weary  and  poor 
in  the  service  of  the  exiled  House.  The  conditions  of  success, 
he  said,  had  always  been  the  same  :  the  Highland  adherents 
of  His  Majesty  could  never  hope  to  be  more  than  the  centre 
around  which  the  real  sources  of  strength,  English  support 
and  French  aid,  might  gather ;  and  these  had  failed  now  as 
they  had  failed  in  '15.  "  I  dare  not,"  he  concluded,  "  lift 
my  voice  to  urge  men  to  take  risks  which  I  am  too  feeble  to 
share." 

Charles  put  up  a  stout  fight,  but  it  was  no  use.  Chief 
after  chief  had  his  say,  and  then  said  it  again  and  again. 
Maclachlan  shifted  from  his  place  near  the  door  to  the  corner 
of  the  hearth  and,  after  whispering  a  while  with  the  Duke 
of  Perth,  confusedly  gave  his  opinion  in  favour  of  going  back. 

He  was  no  sort  of  a  speaker,  being  ill  at  ease,  and  plainly 
occupied  in  rummaging  about  in  his  mind.  Having  wits, 
however,  he  stumbled  on  a  new  line  of  argument. 

"  Then,  sir,"  he  said,  "  there  is  the  great  port  of  Glasgow 
to  be  taken  in.  There's  more  ready  wealth  there  than  in 
any  other  town  in  Scotland,  and  its  moneys,  public  and 
peculiar,  will  give  you  the  means  of  raising  a  great  army  for 
the  spring." 

"  Any  port  in  a  storm,"  said  the  Prince,  scowling  at 
him. 

Being  a  Stuart,  Charles  did  not  realize  that  every  one  of 
these  chiefs  was  a  king-in-little,  accustomed  to  unfettered 
independence  of  action.  There  were  curious  contrasts  in 
him,  for  he  was  as  blundering  and  incapable  in  dealing  with 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  233 

an  assembly  as  he  was  sure  and  brilliant  in  dealing  with  a 
man  by  himself. 

Feeling  began  to  run  high.  One  of  the  chiefs  jerked 
himself  on  to  his  feet  and  harangued  the  Prince  like  a  master 
rating  an  apprentice.  He  was  almost  as  long  and  thin  as 
one  of  Jane's  line-props,  and  had  high,  jutting  cheek-bones 
and  jaws  that  snapped  on  the  ends  of  his  sentences  like  a  rat- 
trap. 

"  I'm  for  gaein'  back  while  the  road's  open  behint  us," 
he  said.  "If  we  dinna,  and  I  get  back  at  a',  which  is 
dootfu',  I  shall  gae  back  wi'  barely  a  dozen  loons  to  my  tail, 
an'  the  Cawmbells,  be  damned  to  every  man  o'  the  name, 
will  ride  on  my  back  for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

"  Ye 're  in  the  right  of  it,  Strowan,"  said  my  Lord  Ogilvie. 
"  There's  too  few  of  us  for  this  work,  but  a  little  peat  will 
boil  a  little  pot.  Let  us  gang  back  and  raddle  the  Glasgow 
bodies.  Ye  hae  my  advice,  sir !  " 

Here  the  Prince,  to  my  mind,  made  a  fatal  mistake.  He 
had  begun  by  trying  to  carry  matters  merely  by  the  weight 
of  his  royal  authority.  This  was  ever  his  plan  in  council, 
and  as  long  as  things  went  well  it  served,  since  the  chiefs, 
looking  forward  as  they  then  did  to  ultimate  triumph,  were 
not  willing  to  risk  his  displeasure  by  standing  out  against 
him.  Now  that  they  were  in  a  tight  corner  this  cock  would 
fight  no  longer,  and  he  made  matters  worse  by  appealing  to 
the  Irishman,  O'Sullivan,  for  his  opinion.  He  briefly  gave 
it  in  favour  of  going  on. 

One  tale  will  hold  till  another's  told.  O'Sullivan  had 
a  great  reputation  as  a  master  of  the  irregular  mode  of 
fighting,  which  must  be  adopted  by  an  army  composed, 
like  ours,  of  untrained  men  not  equipped  according  to  the 
rules  and  requirements  of  soldiership.  But  my  Lord  George 
Murray  was  ready  for  him. 

"  Great  as  Colonel  O'Sullivan 's  reputation  is,  sir,"  he 
said  sweetly,  "  we  have  with  us  in  Colonel  Waynflete  another 
soldier  of  great  distinction.  His  views  would  be  welcome, 
sir." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  Prince  eagerly. 

"  For  myself,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  snuff-box  open  in 
hand,  for  he  had  been  surprised  with  the  rappee  between 


234  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

his  fingers,  "  I  am  ready  to  go  on.  I  came  to  serve  your 
Royal  Highness,  and  I  serve  my  commander  as  he  chooses, 
not  as  I  would  choose  myself.  But  when  you  ask  me  as  to 
the  military  result  of  going  on,  I  tell  you  frankly,  as  becomes 
a  soldier  of  experience  asked  in  Council  to  deliver  his 
opinion,  that  it  is  idle  to  expect  this  present  force  to  get  to 
London.  As  you  get  nearer  London,  sir,  the  country  becomes 
of  a  kind  which  your  army  could  not  successfully  operate 
in.  It  would  be  confined  to  roads  lined  with  hedges  and 
passing  through  many  defendable  towns  and  villages. 
Your  short,  powerful  charges  would  be  out  of  the  question. 
The  English  as  a  whole  fight  well,  no  men  better ;  we  can't 
rationally  expect  all  of  them  to  run  off  at  a  Highland  yell, 
and  with  the  country  in  their  favour  and  London  behind 
them,  a  source  of  constant  fresh  supplies  to  them,  we  should 
be  wiped  out  in  detail.  Your  Royal  Highness  wishes  to 
go  on,  and  therefore  I  am  willing  to  go  on,  but  your  Royal 
Highness  cannot  capture  London  with  the  force  at  your 
disposal." 

He  finished  and  took  his  snuff  with  zest,  seeing  that  it 
was  still  rappee,  and  handed  me  the  box  with  great  com- 
posure. 

In  all  they  talked  and  wrangled  for  three  hours,  and  I  got 
very  tired  of  it  all  and  spent  my  time  looking  through  the 
window  for  Margaret.  There  would  be  no  profit  in  setting 
down  more  of  what  was  said.  Indeed,  no  fresh  point  was 
raised  until  the  Prince  argued  vehemently  in  favour  of 
turning  off  for  Wales,  where  his  adherents  were  supposed  to 
be  very  strong. 

This  produced  a  fresh  crop  of  speeches,  all  on  one  note — 
the  necessity  of  starting  back  for  Scotland. 

The  Duke  of  Perth  had  been  silent  so  far.  He  had  stood 
on  the  hearth,  near  the  fire,  the  warmth  of  which  he  stood 
greatly  in  need  of,  being  slight  and  weakly.  He  had  turned 
his  eyes  from  one  speaker  to  another  as  the  debate  went  on, 
and  had  gently  rubbed  the  back  of  his  head  against  the 
panelling,  as  if  to  stimulate  thought.  The  speech  of  Colonel 
Waynflete  plainly  had  a  great  effect  on  him,  and  I  could  see 
that  he  was  making  up  his  mind,  for  he  continued  the  gentle 
rubbing  of  his  head  but  took  no  note  of  the  wrangling  and 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  235 

jangling  about  the  Welsh  project.  The  storm  lulled,  for 
it  had  blown  itself  out.  Everything  sayable  had  been  said 
times  out  of  number. 

"  I  am  for  marching  back  at  once,"  he  declared  in  a  loud 
voice. 

I  was  heartily  sorry  for  the  Prince.  In  his  mind's  eye 
he  had  seen  himself  in  the  palace  of  his  fathers  with  a  nation 
repentant  at  his  feet.  He  did  not  know  England, — no  Stuart 
ever  did, — or  he  would  have  known  that  the  wave  of  chivalry 
that  had  carried  him  so  far  was  bound  to  spend  itself  on  the 
indifferent  English  as  a  wave  spends  itself  on  the  indifferent 
sands.  Yet  it  was  hard  to  go  back,  hard  to  know  that  he  had 
done  so  much  more  than  his  grandfather  in  '89  or  his  father  in 
'15,  and  done  it  in  vain.  His  standard  was  proudly  flaunt- 
ing in  the  heart  of  England  over  the  grave  of  his  cause. 

But  he  died  well.  "  Rather  than  go  back,"  he  cried,  "  I 
would  wish  to  be  twenty  feet  under  ground  !  " 

With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  dismissed  the  Council. 

"  Slip  out  and  look  after  Sultan,"  whispered  the  Colonel. 
"  I  am  aide-de-camp  to  the  Prince  and  cannot  come.  Take 
him  to  the  "  Bald-Faced  Stag  "  in  the  Irongate,  to  your  right 
across  the  Square.  You  should  find  Margaret  there,  and 
Mr.  Freake." 

I  was  edging  out  in  the  tail  of  the  procession  when 
Mr.  Secretary,  moved  thereto  by  the  Prince,  sidled  up  to  me, 
his  sly  eyes  overrunning  the  outgoing  chiefs  as  he  came. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm,  which  gave  me  the  creeps, 
and  said,  "  His  Royal  Highness  would  speak  with  you, 
sir." 

He  sidled  back  again  with  me  behind  him,  wondering 
how  far  one  fair  kick  would  lift  him.  I  stood  stiff  and 
awkward  before  the  Prince,  who,  however,  addressed  the 
Colonel. 

"  Your  speech  was  a  shrewd  blow  to  me,  Colonel.  Nay, 
don't  protest  !  You  did  a  soldier's  duty  by  me  in  Council 
as  you  will  do  it  in  battle.  I  ask  no  more." 

"  And  I  shall  do  no  less,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Well,  give  me  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  I'll  ask  your  advice 
on  another  military  point." 

This  was  the  straight  way  to  the  Colonel's  heart,  taking 


236  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

snuff  and  talking  soldiership  being  to  him  the  twin  boons  of 
life. 

Charles  took  his  rappee  thoughtfully  and  then  said, 
"  What  is  the  best  way  of  dealing  with  a  solid  body  of  the 
enemy  with  inferior  forces  ?  " 

"  Split  'em  up  and  smash  'em  in  detail,  sir." 

"  What  d'ye  say  to  that,  Tom  Sheridan  ?  "  asked  Charles. 

"  The  oracle  of  Delphi  could  not  have  spoken  better, 
sir,"  replied  Sir  Thomas. 

"  Damn  your  oracle  of  Delphi,  you  old  rascal,"  cried  the 
Prince,  with  great  good-humour.  "  That's  a  crumb  of  the 
mouldy  bread  of  learning  you  used  to  cram  down  my  throat 
in  the  old  days.  It  makes  Master  Wheatman  writhe  to  hear 
it.  The  only  advantage  I  ever  got  out  of  being  a  Prince  was 
that  old  Tom  here  never  dared  thrash  me  for  gulping  up  his 
rubbish." 

"  Master  Wheatman  knows  Latin  enough  to  stock  a  couple 
of  bishops,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  The  devil  he  does  !  "  said  Charles  admiringly.  "  He'll 
come  in  handy  for  writing  me  a  letter  to  His  Holiness." 

"  It's  not  such  bad  stuff  as  all  that,  sir,"  said  I,  glad  of 
a  chance  of  saying  something,  for  I  had  been  hurt  to  the 
quick  by  talk  that  reminded  me  of  how  I  had  quizzed  Jack's 
classics  in  Old  Comfit's  entry. 

"  To  come  back  to  the  Colonel's  advice,"  said  Charles. 
"  I've  split  'em  up  and  now  I'm  going  to  smash  'em  in  detail. 
We're  not  going  back,  sirs,  if  I  can  help  it.  Master  Wheat- 
man,"— and  here  he  naturally  and  unaffectedly  took  on  a 
princely  tone — "  we  appoint  you  our  assistant  aide-de-camp, 
and  desire  your  attendance  on  our  person  during  the  day, 
under  the  more  immediate  authority  of  our  excellent  friend, 
Colonel  Waynflete." 

At  a  sign  from  the  Colonel,  which  I  was  lucky  enough  to 
see  the  meaning  of,  I  dropped  on  my  knee  before  the  Prince. 

"  Thank  you,  Master  Wheatman,"  said  Charles,  in  his 
ordinary  frank  way,  when  I  rose.  "  You're  worth  a  hundred 
rats  like  young  Maclachlan." 

I  coloured,  partly  with  the  praise  and  partly  because  I 
was  wondering  how  many  Smite-and-spare-nots  I  was  worth. 

I  was  then  closely  questioned  about  the  lie  of  the  land 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  237 

to  the  south  of  Stafford  and  Derby.  After  a  long  consulta- 
tion, the  Prince  dismissed  me,  with  a  gracious  invitation  to 
be  one  of  the  Royal  party  at  dinner,  promising  me,  with  a  sly 
smile,  that  the  company  should  be  to  my  liking. 

The  Colonel  and  I  withdrew.  In  the  corridor  he  put  me 
in  charge  of  an  upper  servant  of  the  household,  and  went  to 
see  to  Sultan. 

My  new  acquaintance  was  an  elderly  man  of  a  solemn, 
soapy  aspect,  set  off  by  a  sober  black  livery  and  a  neat  wig. 
He  took  me  up  to  a  bedroom,  and  saw  to  my  comfort. 

"  William,  or  whatever  it  is,"  I  began. 

"  William  it  is,  sir,"  said  he. 

"  Do  I  look  like  an  assistant  aide-de-camp  to  a  prince  ?  " 

He  took  stock  of  me,  from  my  dirty  boots  to  my  bare 
head,  and  then  said  solemnly,  "  No,  sir  !  " 

"  William,"  said  I,  "  but  that's  precisely  what  I  am." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied. 

"  Therefore  this  is  precisely  your  opportunity,  William." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  he. 

"  William,"  I  went  on  insinuatingly,  "  I  think  you  could, 
knowing  this  house  so  intimately  as  you  do,  make  me  look 
something  like  an  assistant  aide-de-camp  to  a  prince.  It's  a 
tough  job,  William,  but  you'll  do  it.  I  can  see  it  in  your 
eye.  By  virtue  of  the  power  adherent  to  the  assistant  aide- 
de-camp  of  a  prince,  we  hereby  authorize  you  to  do  all  things 
that  may  be  necessary  for  the  accomplishment  of  our  purpose, 
and,  when  your  task  is  over,  you  will,  by  a  curious  coinci- 
dence, find  five  guineas  under  yon  candlestick.  Life,  William, 
is  full  of  coincidences." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  But  not  as  full  of  guineas,  William,  as  it  should  be. 
Set  to  work  !  " 

Instead  of  going  he  stood  there,  gently  washing  his  hands 
with  imaginary  soap  and  water,  and  finally  said,  "  You  will 
of  course,  sir,  be  very  angry  if  I  do  not  do  as  you  bid  me." 

"  I  shall,  William,"  said  I,  lathering  away  at  my  chin. 

"  I  may  take  it,  sir,  that  you'll  blow  my  brains  out  if  I 
don't." 

"  Blow  your Oh,  I  see  !  Certainly !  "  said  I,  tailing 

off  from  astonishment  into  understanding. 


238  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

The  quiet  humour  of  the  man  was  delightful.  I  fetched 
a  pistol  out  of  my  pocket  and  added  gravely,  "  William, 
unless  I  am,  in  appearance  as  well  as  in  fact,  a  prince's 
assistant  aide-de-camp  in  half  an  hour,  I'll  blow  your  brains 
out.  Now  clear  out,  while  I  have  a  bath  !  " 

"  Thankee,  sir.  It'll  be  all  right  now.  My  lord  is,  I 
should  say,  just  of  a  size  with  your  honour." 

William  was  an  artist  and  fitted  me  out  with  the  nothing- 
too-much  of  exact  taste.  There  were  garments  by  the  score 
that  would  have  made  a  popinja5'  of  me,  but  he  knew  better, 
and  turned  a  sober  young  yeoman  into  a  sober  young  gentle- 
men, and  there's  no  harder  task,  as  I  have  frequently  observed 
since. 

"  Sir,"  said  he  at  length,  stepping  back  a  few  paces  to 
con  me  over,  "in  any  other  man  I  should  deplore  the  obstinacy 
— excuse  my  plainness,  sir — which  declines  to  wear  a  wig, 
but  the  general  result,  the  tout  ensemble,  as  my  lord  would 
put  it,  is  agreeable." 

"  William,"  I  replied,  "  you  err  through  ignorance — 
excuse  my  plainness,  William.  The  best  Wheatman  of  the 
Hanyards  that  ever  lived  would  have  burned  at  the  stake 
rather  than  wear  a  wig.  I've  done  most  of  the  other  things 
he  would  have  burned  for,  but  I'll  stick  by  him  to  this  extent 
that  I'll  be  damned  if  I'll  wear  a  wig." 

I  never  have,  and  it  is  no  small  measure  due  to  me  that 
the  wearing  of  wigs  is  being  left  to  lawyers  and  doctors, 
who,  I  understand,  find  it  pays  to  look  old  and  old-fashioned. 

"  Quite  so,  sir  !  A  very  proper  sentiment,"  said  William, 
with  his  eye  on  the  candlestick.  "  It's  family  pride  that 
keeps  the  great  families  agoing,  sir,  and  they're  the  back- 
bone of  the  Constitution,  sir  !  " 

After  this  high  sentence,  as  I  was  ready  to  go,  he  gravely 
escorted  me  to  the  door  and  bowed  me  out.  I  dropped  my 
ear  to  the  keyhole  and  heard  the  chink  of  the  guineas. 
William  clearly  had  a  very  pretty  appreciation  of  the  best 
means  of  keeping  himself  agoing.  A  suaver,  defter  rascal  I 
have  never  set  eyes  on. 

I  had  already  so  much  of  soldiership  as  to  know  that  it  is 
well  to  master  the  ins  and  outs  and  roundabouts  of  a  strange 
house.  If  an  emergency  comes  it  may  be  the  best  guide  to 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  239 

action.  "  Know  your  ground  and  win  your  fight,"  the 
Colonel  used  to  say,  and  it's  as  true  of  a  house  as  of  a 
province.  So  I  walked  softly  and  watchfully  about,  and 
in  doing  so  had  turned  sharp  to  the  right  to  gain  a  view  of 
the  river  and  the  gardens,  when  I  came  on  the  Lady  Ogilvie. 
She  was  kneeling  on  a  cushioned  settle,  resting  her  chin  in 
her  hands,  and  her  elbows  on  the  high  back  of  the  seat. 

She  turned  to  see  who  it  was.  Her  face  was  clouded 
over,  but  the  sun  of  her  smile  broke  through  in  a  flash, 
and  she  darted  joyously  at  me. 

"  It's  the  incomparable  one  !  "  she  cried,  bubbling  over 
with  merriment.  "  Nay,  I  vow,  it's  the  still  more  incom- 
parable one.  Losh,  man,  and  ye  look  bonny  !  I'm  telling 
it  ye,  and  I've  seen  more  bonny  men  than  you've  seen 
bullocks.  Sit  down  and  tell  me  where  you've  been  and 
what  you've  done.  Davie  says  you  tell't  him  I  was  very, 
very  guid.  And  so  I  am,"  she  ended  complacently,  "  and 
if  any  man  says  the  differ  .  .  ." 

"  He'll  do  well  to  keep  out  of  Davie's  road  and  mine," 
I  cut  in,  as  I  was  building  up  the  cushions  into  a  soft  corner 
for  her. 

"  You're  an  unco'  guid  lad,"  she  said,  wriggling  into 
her  nest,  "  an'  if  it  werena  for  some  one  I  ken  I'd  gie  ye 
anither  kiss." 

I  willingly  admit  that  I  wished  Davie  far  enough,  for 
she  was  a  very  dainty  lady,  with  a  mouth  like  an  open 
rose-bud. 

We  had  a  long  talk,  for  I  told  her  all  about  my  doings 
with  ghost,  thieves,  thief-catchers,  and  baby  Blount.  She 
enjoyed  it  to  the  top  of  her  bent.  Then,  when  I  had  come 
to  the  end  of  my  tale,  she  sobered  all  of  a  sudden,  and  said, 
"  Oliver,  what's  going  to  happen  to  us  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  I. 

"  There's  something  in  the  wind  I  dinna  like.  Davie's 
a'  for  ganging  back.  We  women  ought  never  to  have 
come.  Davie  can  think  o'  naething  but  me.  As  if  I  mattered 
a  tup's  head,  the  silly  gomeril,  bless  him  !  Now  there's 
your  Maclachlan.  He'd  go  to  London  if  it  was  full  o'  deevils 
to  fetch  a  stay-lace  for  Margaret,  but  he's  a'  for  the  home- 
ward gait  too  !  " 


240  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  The  best  military  opinion  is  that  it  is   hopeless  to  go 
on,"  said  I. 

"  And  I  dinna  think  it's  much  better  to  gae  back, 
laddie.  It's  a  retreat.  Ca'  it  what  you  like,  you  can  mak' 
nae  ither  thing  of  it,  and  these  Highland  bodies,  ance  they 
retreat,  will  break  to  bits.  Naething  will  keep  the  main  of 
'em  taegither,  ance  they  cross  the  Highland  line  again. 
Sae  it's  a  black  look  out,  Oliver,  but  I  dinna  mind  ane 
wee  bit.  If  I'd  no  been  a  Jacobite,  I'd  never  hae  met  my 
Davie  yonder.  He's  worth  it  a',  is  Davie." 

"  It's  a  hard  task  for  any  man  to  be  worthy  of  your 
ladyship,"  said  I,  "  but  Davie's  worthy  if  any  man  is." 

"  And  Davie  reckons  you're  fine,"  she  replied,  smiling. 
"  Margaret  pit  him  doon  for  three  dances,  and  sat  in  a 
corner  with  him  through  'em  a'.  I  wonder  the  incom- 
parable one's  lugs  " — I  knew  what  she  meant  because  she 
pinched  one — "  arena  burnt  off  his  head.  You  should 
hae  seen  Maclachlan  ranting  and  raving  like  an  auld  doited 
tup  1  " 

"It  is  pleasant  to  learn  that  Mistress  Waynflete  is  so 
interested  in  my  doings,"  said  I,  with  as  much  coolness 
and  aloofness  as  I  could  muster.  I  would  at  least  keep 
my  foolishness  on  my  own  side  of  my  teeth. 

"  Unco  pleasant,  I  hae  nae  doot,"  was  her  dry  comment. 
And  she  set  her  red  lips  aslant  as  if  she  were  swallowing 
vinegar. 

I  remembered  my  new  function,  and  looked  at  my  watch. 
I  had  long  overrun  the  hour  the  Colonel  had  given  me. 

"  Your  ladyship  will  pardon  me,"  said  I,  springing  up, 
"  but  I'm  overdue  for  duty." 

"  Duty  ?  " 

"  Yes.  His  Royal  Highness  has  appointed  me  assistant 
aide-de-camp  to  himself." 

I  spoke  with  much  impressiveness  but,  to  my  chagrin, 
instead  of  the  congratulations  that  were  my  due  on  such 
an  occasion,  she  looked  concerned  and  almost  angry,  and 
cried,  "  The  very  deil's  in  it !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  your  ladyship  is  displeased,"  I  said  coldly. 
Scot  clings  to  Scot,  and  she  did  not  like  it. 

"  Displeased,   ye  daft  gomeril !  "   she   retorted.     "  And 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  241 

I  suppose  you'll  be  pleased,  and  Margaret  will  shout  for 
joy,  if  ye  get  a  dirk  in  your  assistant  aide-de-camp's  ribs 
ane  o'  these  fine  nights.  Just  understand  ance  for  a',  my 
friend,  that  a  Highlander  kills  a  man  wi'  as  little  compunc- 
tion as  an  Englishman  squashes  a  beetle.  There's  nane 
o'  your  law-and-order  bodies  beyont  the  Highland  line." 

"  Nothing  but  common  murderers  !  "  said  I  hotly.  "  I 
have  heard  much  of  the  virtues  of  the  Highlanders  of  late, 
but  this  surprises  me." 

"  Hoots !  Murderers  ? "  she  cried.  "  No  such  silly 
Saxon  whimsies.  They've  got  as  many  virtues  as  any 
Englisher  that  ever  snivelled  prayer  and  shortened  yard- 
stick. Murderers  !  Hoots,  my  mannie  !  Just  removers  of 
difficulties  !  " 

So  she  turned  it  off  with  a  jest  in  her  pretty  way,  and 
got  up  and  jigged  along  the  corridor  with  me  after  her, 
longing  to  jig  it  with  her,  but  hobbled  by  my  new  dignity. 
I  had  no  clear  notion  of  an  assistant  aide-de-camp's  duties, 
but  felt  that  they  required  a  certain  solemnity  of  manner 
inconsistent  with  her  ladyship's  grasshopper  ways. 

In  the  end,  she  dancing  and  I  lumbering  along,  we  came 
on  a  cheerful  group  collected  in  the  corridor  below.  There 
was  the  Prince,  the  Duke  of  Perth,  the  Lord  Ogilvie,  the 
two  Irishmen,  Mr.  Secretary,  the  Colonel,  a  strange  lady  or 
two,  and  Margaret. 

"  I  thought  your  ladyship  was  lost,"  said  Charles,  smiling. 

"  On  the  contrary,  sir,"  she  retorted,  "  I  was  found." 

"  The  usual  explanation,"  he  commented  lightly. 

"  A  most  unusual  explanation,  sir,"  she  countered  deftly, 
"  for  Mr.  Wheatman  has  been  explaining  how  it  came  to 
pass  that  he  kissed  a  ghost." 

"  I  never  said  any  such  thing,"  cried  I,  vexed  to  the 
bone. 

"  It  wasna  necessary,"  she  said  airily. 

"  Was  it  the  ghost  of  a  lady  ?  "  asked  the  Duke,  who  had 
been  greatly  amused  by  the  dialogue. 

"  The  question  could  only  be  asked,"  said  Charles, 
"  by  one  who  has  not  the  advantage  of  knowing  Master 
Wheatman." 

He  laid  a  hand  on  my  arm  and  drew  me  nearer.     "  My 
16 


242  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

lord  Duke,"  he  went  on,  "  I  present  to  you  the  latest  ad- 
dition to  my  army,  Mr.  Oliver  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards, 
the  first-fruit,  I  am  convinced,  of  a  rich  harvest  from  the 
gentry  of  his  shire." 

It  was  no  plan  of  mine  to  cry  stinking  fish  to  a  Prince  who 
had  engentried  me  in  such  distinguished  company.  "  I'll 
have  two  blue  stars  and  a  jack  in  my  coat-armour,"  thought 
I,  as  I  bowed  to  the  Duke,  who  made  himself  singularly 
graceful. 

There  was  now  a  general  movement  down  the  corridor, 
headed  by  the  Prince  with  one  of  the  unknown  ladies  on  his 
arm.  There  was  no  other  formal  pairing  though  Lady 
Ogilvie  deftly  snapped  up  the  Duke  as  he  was  coming  for 
Margaret,  and  thus  left  her  to  me. 

She  let  the  last  pair  get  a  yard  or  two  ahead  of  us,  and 
then  looked  at  me,  her  eyes  full  of  laughter,  curtsied,  and 
said,  "  Good  morrow,  Sir  Kiss-the-ghost !  " 

"  Good  morrow,  madam,"  said  I  stoutly. 

She  put  her  arm  in  mine  and,  as  we  moved  off,  whispered 
mockingly,  "  Sensible  ghost  1  " 


CHAPTER  XXI 
MASTER  FREAKE  KNOWS  AT  LAST 

DINNER  was  a  success  from  the  Prince's  point  of 
view.  The  Duke  was  completely  won  over  to  the 
idea  of  our  going  on,  and  even  the  Lord  Ogilvie  at 
one  time  wavered  before  the  Prince's  onslaught.  The  Irish- 
men were  strongly  in  favour  of  it,  and  Mr.  Secretary,  when 
thawed  by  wine,  grew  expansive  over  its  advantages.  I  in- 
cline to  think  that  the  rascal  had  ratted  already,  and  was 
anxious  to  get  all  he  could  out  of  the  Government  by  leading 
the  Prince  into  a  trap.  Trap  it  would  have  been,  as  Culloden 
plainly  showed.  Against  English  regular  soldiers,  resolutely 
led,  the  Highlanders  would  work  no  more  miracles. 

So  for  a  space  the  chatter  and  laughter  went  on.     Charles 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  243 

was  already  in  St.  James's,  and  the  ladies  were  already 
queening  it  in  the  new  Court  over  the  renegade  beauties  of 
the  old  one.  Even  Margaret  caught  some  of  the  enthusiasm, 
so  that  I  whispered  to  her,  "  You  beat  our  Kate  at  counting 
your  unhatched  chickens." 

Whereat  she  sobered  all  of  a  sudden,  and  whispered, 
"  Maybe  you  are  right,  Oliver  !  " 

"  I  hope  for  your  sake  they  are  true  prophets,"  I  said. 
"  I  should  dearly  like  to  see  you  a  marchioness  before  I  go 
back  to  my  farming." 

"  That's  one  of  the  chickens  I've  not  counted,"  she  said. 

She  looked  at  me  very  steadily,  and  then  turned  and 
plunged  into  the  stream  of  conversation  flowing  around  her. 

Her  father  had  steered  clear  of  all  awkward  topics,  taking 
for  granted  that  we  were  going  on.  Charles  got  less  cautious 
as  he  got  surer,  and  moreover,  as  I  could  not  but  observe,  he 
was  mellowing  somewhat  under  the  brandy  he  was  drinking. 
Princes  commonly  have  no  judgment  of  men,  having  never 
the  need  of  noting  their  humours  in  order  to  mould  them  to 
their  will.  So  now  Charles  bluntly  attacked  the  Colonel 
again  on  the  military  aspect  of  the  situation,  which  was 
merely  butting  against  a  stone  wall. 

"You  must  remember,  Colonel,"  he  said,  "that  my 
Highlanders  have  driven  the  English  soldiery  before  them 
like  sheep.  They  wiped  out  an  army  of  them  at  Gladsmuir 
in  less  than  fifteen  minutes,  and  only  lost  thirty  men  killed  in 
doing  it." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  give  me  one  thousand  English 
soldiers  for  a  week  and  I'll  pit  them  against  any  thousand 
Highlanders  you  like  to  bring  against  'em." 

"  Then  it's  a  good  job  you're  on  my  side,"  said  Charles. 

"  It  is  indeed,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  very  quietly,  "  and 
under  favour,  sir,  you  will  be  well  advised  to  have  your 
troops  exercised  in  the  best  ways  of  charging  men  who  don't 
mean  to  run  from  them.  There's  no  military  science 
wanted  to  beat  men  who  run  away  from  you  as  soon  as  you 
attack.  As  I  understand  it,  your  Highlander  fires  his  piece 
from  a  good  distance,  throws  it  away,  and  then  rushes  to  the 
attack.  If  the  enemy  stands,  he  catches  the  bayonet  of  the 
man  in  front  of  him  in  his  leather  shield,  where  it  sticks,  and 


244  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

so  has  him  at  mercy,  and  through  you  go  like  a  knife  through 
a  cheese." 

"  That's  just  how  it's  done,  Colonel,"  said  Charles  merrily. 

"  Well,  sir,  that's  just  how  it  wouldn't  be  done  if  I  was  in 
command  against  you." 

There  was  neither  eating  nor  drinking  going  on  now, 
except  that  the  Prince  poured  out  his  third  glass  of  brandy. 
Everybody  was  intent  on  the  dialogue.  Ogilvie,  his  hand 
clasping  his  wife's  under  the  skirt  of  the  napery,  looked 
so  intently  at  the  Colonel  that  his  face  was  like  a  figure  in  a 
Euclid  book. 

"  How  would  you  stop  it,  sir  ?  " 

It  was  Mr.  Secretary  who  spoke,  for  Charles  was  sipping 
at  his  brandy. 

"  We're  all  friends  here  ?  "  said  the  Colonel  brusquely. 

"  All  loyal  to  the  last  drop  of  our  blood,"  replied  Mr. 
Secretary  fervently. 

"  I  dare  say,"  was  the  Colonel's  dry  comment,  "  but  it's 
much  more  important  at  times  to  be  loyal  to  the  last  wag  of 
your  tongue." 

"  Then  I  only  answer,  as  in  the  presence  of  God,  for  my- 
self," said  he  piously. 

"  Leaving  God  to  look  after  Mr.  Secretary,"  said  Charles, 
banging  his  empty  glass  on  the  table.  "  I'll  answer  for  the 
rest.  So  get  on  with  your  plan,  Colonel." 

"  His  Royal  Highness  has  selected  the  easier  task," 
whispered  Margaret  in  my  ear. 

"  Well,  sir,"  began  the  Colonel,  "  I  should  say  to  my 
men  :  '  When  the  Highlanders  charge,  take  no  notice  of  the 
man  who  is  coming  straight  at  you.  Keep  your  eye  on  his 
left-hand  man,  who  is  coming  at  your  right-hand  man.  Don't 
fire  at  him  till  you  can  see  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  and  if  you 
don't  bring  him  down  with  the  bullet,  have  at  him  and  thrust 
your  bayonet  into  his  right  ribs.  There's  no  buckler  there, 
and  his  right  arm  will  be  up  to  strike.  The  man  coming  at 
you  will  be  attended  to  in  the  same  way  by  your  left-hand 
man.'  After  a  week's  practice  in  that  little  trick,  sir,  I  should 
face  any  charge  your  Highlanders  liked  to  make,  and  would 
bet  a  thousand  guineas  to  this  pinch  of  rappee — poor  stuff 
*s  it  is — on  stopping  'em  dead  in  their  tracks." 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  245 

"  By  gad  !  and  so  you  would,  sir  !  "  said  my  Lord  Ogilvie 

explosively. 

"  It  sounds  feasible,"  said  old  Sir  Thomas,  "  but  fortun- 
ately Colonel  Waynflete  is  with  us,  and  can  teach  us  new 
tricks." 

"  Of  course  he  can,"  said  Charles.  "  What  do  you  say, 
Master  Wheatman  ?  You  know  him." 

"  That  old  poachers  make  the  best  gamekeepers,  sir," 
I  answered. 

"  Nom  de  chien,"  cried  the  Colonel,  twirling  fiercely  round 
on  me.  Margaret,  who  sat  between  us,  laughingly  pretended 
to  protect  me  from  him,  and  he  thrust  his  snuff-box  across 
at  me. 

The  Prince  rose,  and,  followed  by  Murray,  left  the  room. 
We  all  stood  gossiping  together.  Ogilvie  and  O' Sullivan 
talked  very  earnestly  about  the  Colonel's  trick.  His  Grace 
of  Perth  ogled  Margaret  off  towards  the  window  on  pretence 
of  showing  her  some  sight  of  interest  in  the  square. 

"  Did  they  leave  him  in  the  lurch  ?  "  twittered  a  voice 
mockingly  in  my  ear.  It  was  my  lady  Ogilvie. 

"  It  must  be  nice  to  be  with  a  duke,"  said  I,  very  glum  and 
miserable  again  all  of  a  sudden. 

"  It's  a  great  deal  nicer  to  be  with  a  man,"  she  answered. 
"  Come  and  help  me  throw  crumbs  to  the  pretty  wee  birdies 
in  the  garden." 

In  his  attempt  to  '  smash  'em  in  detail '  the  Prince  was 
acute  enough  to  use  the  Colonel,  and  condescending  enough 
to  use  me,  as  supporters.  The  unrivalled  military  skill 
which  the  Colonel  would  devote  to  the  winning  of  London 
was  dwelt  upon  until  even  the  Colonel,  in  no  wise  inclined 
to  under-estimate  it,  got  restive,  and  snuffed  and  pshawed 
with  great  vigour.  I,  of  course,  was  the  early,  strong-winged 
swallow  that  announced  the  nights  of  laggards  behind. 

There  were  some  dozen  chiefs  of  considerable  position 
in  the  Prince's  army,  and  he  tackled  them  one  by  one,  and 
tried  to  argue  them  into  his  way  of  thinking.  Some  he  sent 
for  to  his  lodging ;  others  he  visited  in  theirs — a  special 
but  wasted  mark  of  distinction.  On  the  whole  they  would 
not  budge.  They  were  courteous  and  respectful,  for  they 
were  gentlemen,  and  he  was  their  Prince,  but  their  minds 


246  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

were  made  up  and  they  would  not  surrender  their  wills  to  his. 
Mostly,  in  their  talk,  they  simply  chewed  over  again  the 
morning's  cud. 

Mr.  Secretary  went  off  as  envoy  to  fetch  the  chiefs  to 
Exeter  House,  where  the  Prince  received  them  in  his  little 
private  chamber  overlooking  the  gardens.  He  would  stand, 
silent  and  moody,  glowering  out  of  the  window,  with  the 
Colonel  and  me  standing  silent  and  thoughtful  behind  him. 
I  felt  keenly  for  him,  for  he  was  indeed  a  gracious,  likeable 
young  fellow,  born  to  purple  poverty  and  a  shadowy  prince- 
dom, and  now,  as  he  thought,  with  the  reality  of  wealth  and 
power  snatched  out  of  his  grasp. 

"  If  we  go  back,"  said  he,  turning  his  eyes  on  me,  so  that 
I  saw  how  life  and  light  had  quite  gone  out  of  them,  "  it's  all 
over  with  my  House." 

"  I  hope  not,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  I  know  it  is,"  he  cried  bitterly,  almost  rudely.  "  All 
over  with  us — and  all  over  with  me.  If  we  go  on,  I  shall  at 
the  worst  go  to  my  grave  strong  and  sweet.  If  we  go 
back " 

He  paused  and  looked  moodily  out  of  the  window.  I 
think  now,  as  I  picture  him  to  myself  standing  there,  that 
he  knew  himself  well  enough  to  know  what  was  coming.  For 
another  picture  of  him  comes  to  my  mind,  as  I  saw  him  in 
Rome  many  years  later,  and  shuddered  as  I  saw  him. 

He  turned  and  smiled  at  me,  as  one  smiles  who  sips  sour 
wine. 

"  If  we  go  back,  friend  Wheatman,  I  shall  just  rot  into 
it." 

He  spoke  truth.     I  saw  him  rotting. 

And  then,  because  he  had  more  stuff  in  him  than  any 
other  royal  Stuart  that  ever  lived,  he  turned  round,  proud 
and  princely,  as  the  door  opened  and  in  came  Mr.  Secretary 
with  Macdonald  of  Glencoe,  a  short-horned  bull  of  a 
man. 

"  And  when  was  it,"  said  he,  rapping  the  words  out  like 
hammer-strokes  on  an  anvil,  "  that  the  Macdonalds  got 
feart  ?  " 

The  Chief  pulled  up  short,  hit  clean  and  hard  between 
the  eyes. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  247 

"  Ye'll  never  see  a  feart  Macdonald,"  he  said,  "  if  ye  live 
to  be  as  auld  as  Ben  Nevis." 

"  Ye're  in  the  wrong,  Glencoe,"  said  Charles.  "  I 
saw  one  this  morning,  and  he  was  frightened  of  the 
English." 

"I'll  gie  ye  the  lie  o'  that,"  roared  Glencoe,  "  if  I  hae  to 
scrat  my  way  into  London  wi'  ma  nails." 

"  I'll  be  glad  of  the  lie  from  you  on  those  terms,"  replied 
Charles  calmly,  "  and  you  shall  ride  into  London  at  my  right 
hand  while  I  take  my  words  back." 

The  Prince  went  to  a  table  and  filled  a  silver-gilt  tass 
with  brandy.  He  sipped  it  and  then,  handing  it  to  the  Chief, 
said,  "  We'll  share  the  same  glass  to-day,  Glencoe,  as  a  pledge 
that  we'll  share  the  same  victory  to-morrow." 

I  did  not  like  his  brandy-drinking,  but  he  did  it  well  this 
time.  As  I  have  said,  he  was  at  his  best  in  dealing  with  a 
single  man  face  to  face.  It  is  only  the  rarest  and  finest 
spirits  that  can  dominate  a  crowd. 

At  a  sign  from  the  Prince  the  Colonel  and  I  escorted  the 
Chief  to  the  door,  bestowing  on  him,  as  was  due  and  politic, 
every  courtesy.  He  looked  like  a  man  who,  after  days  of 
doubt,  had  newly  found  himself. 

"  We've  got  him !  "  cried  Charles  gleefully  as  the  door 
closed  behind  him.  "  Now,  gentlemen,  I  crave  your  attend- 
ance on  a  progress  round  the  town.  Mr.  Wheatman,  bear 
our  compliments  to  my  Lord  Elcho,  and  bid  him  call  out  some 
score  or  so  of  our  guards  to  escort  us." 

We  made  a  gallant  show  as  we  walked  the  streets  of 
Derby  in  the  early  grey  of  that  December  evening.  Ahead 
of  us  went  a  dozen  dismounted  life-guards  to  clear  the  cause- 
ways. Then  followed  Mr.  Secretary  with  a  brace  or  two  of 
town  notables  unwillingly  yoked  to  the  task  of  giving  an 
appearance  of  local  support ;  then  followed  the  Prince,  be- 
tween O' Sullivan  and  the  Colonel,  with  young  Clanranald  and 
me  at  their  heels  ;  and  another  dozen  life-guards  in  the  rear. 
As  we  passed  along  the  causeways,  a  score  or  so  of  mounted 
guards,  with  Lord  Elcho  at  their  head,  kept  level  with  us  in 
the  roadways.  Volleys  of  slogans  greeted  us  wherever  we 
went,  for  the  town  was  full  to  bursting  of  the  clansmen.  The 
townsmen  crowded  to  doors  and  windows  to  watch  us  pass. 


248  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

The  Prince  doffed  to  them  every  other  yard,  but  he  and  all 
of  us  were  mere  curiosities  to  most  of  them. 

The  progress  was  stayed  at  the  "  White  Horse  "  in  Sadler- 
gate,  and  the  Prince,  with  us,  his  immediate  attendants, 
turned  into  the  inn-yard,  with  its  long  uneven  lines  of  stables 
and  coach-houses,  all  packed  with  Camerons.  At  the  news 
of  the  Prince's  coming  they  trooped  out,  yelling  lustily. 
Some  sort  of  order  was  formed,  and  the  Prince  walked  up  and 
down  among  the  swaying,  uncouth  masses,  with  a  cheery 
smile  on  his  face,  and  with  now  and  again  a  phrase  of  their 
own  Gaelic  on  his  lips. 

"  The  men  are  keen  enough,"  he  said  to  the  Colonel 
apart.  "  Let  us  go  within  and  see  what  mood  young  Lochiel 
is  in  now." 

Lochiel,  '  young '  only  by  way  of  distinztion  from  a 
Lochiel  still  older,  wanted  no  digging  out,  for,  the  news 
having  been  carried  to  him,  he  ran  out  bareheaded  and 
breathless.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  middle-aged  gentleman, 
broody  and  melancholy  at  times,  as  these  men  of  the  moun- 
tains are  apt  to  be  when  they've  got  brains.  At  the  Council 
he  had  been  silently  set  on  going  back. 

"  Your  men  are  in  fine  fettle,  Lochiel,"  said  Charles,  "  and 
as  keen  as  their  claymores  to  be  at  it." 

"  They  dinnae  see  the  hoodie-craws  gathering  for  the 
feast,"  said  Lochiel  sombrely. 

"  They  see  the  battle  won  and  the  spoils  of  victory,  after 
the  usual  way  with  the  Camerons,"  replied  the  Prince. 

"  They  havenae  the  gift  of  far-seeing,"  said  the  Chief, 
gloomily  proud  of  his  own  prophetic  powers. 

Charles  started  impatiently,  and  there  would  have  been  a 
wrangle  but  for  the  Colonel. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  addressing  the  Prince,  "  you  will  forgive 
an  old  campaigner  for  being  a  stickler  for  the  rules  and 
procedures  of  military  operations.  An  inn-yard,  with 
soldiery  around  and  townsfolk  gaping  through  doors  and 
windows,  is  no  place  for  a  council  of  war.  The  gentleman  is 
pleased  to  dream,  of  birds,  as  I  gather.  Let  him  back  to 
the  fireside  and  dream  of  them  in  peace." 

Without  another  word  the  Prince  turned  on  his  heel  and 
strode  out  of  the  yard.  I  attended  him  at  first,  but  missed 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  249 

the  Colonel,  and  turned  back  to  him,  for  Lochiel  was  all  a 
Highlander,  seer  one  minute  and  savage  the  next.  Indeed, 
I  found  him,  all  his  moodiness  gone,  as  mad  as  a  hatter. 

"  I'll  hae  the  heart's  blood  o'  ye  for  this,  prince  or  no 
prince,"  he  bawled  at  the  Colonel,  who,  precisely  as  I  ex- 
pected, was  seizing  the  welcome  opportunity  of  having  a 
pinch  of  snuff. 

"  Good  lad  !  "  said  he,  holding  out  the  box,  as  indifferent 
to  the  crowding  Camerons  as  if  they  were  sheep.  "  Make 
it  pigeons  next  time,  Mr.  Lochiel.  Damme,  Oliver,  this 
rappee  gets  unendurable." 

His  coolness  took  Lochiel  off  the  boil,  and  he  and  I  passed 
out  without  another  word  into  Sadler-gate  and  hurried  after 
the  Prince.  We  found  the  progress  somewhat  ragged,  and, 
as  we  were  only  a  few  yards  from  the  corner  of  Rotten  Row, 
which  forms  the  side  of  the  square  opposite  Exeter  House, 
it  was,  I  suppose,  hardly  worth  while  to  trim  it  into  shape 
again.  In  those  few  yards,  however,  an  incident  much  more 
to  my  liking  occurred,  for  just  as  we  turned  round  the  leading 
file  of  the  rear  of  guards,  we  found  that  the  Prince  had  again 
halted,  in  the  light  of  a  shop-window,  and  this  time  it  was 
to  talk  to  Margaret,  who  was  standing  there  with  Master 
Freake. 

It  was  a  large  shop  with  two  well-stocked  bow-windows. 
The  doorway  between  them,  and  half  the  inwards  of  the  shop, 
were  filled  with  the  shop  master,  his  apprentices,  and 
customers,  crowding  and  craning  to  get  a  sight  of  the  Prince. 
Over  the  door  was  a  shield-shaped  sign,  bearing  the  Derby 
ram  for  cognizance,  and  the  legend,  "  Martin  Moyle,  Grocer 
and  Italian  Warehouseman."  I  noted  it  then,  because  the 
word  '  Italian  '  carried  me  back  to  Margaret's  tirra-lirring, 
and  I  note  it  down  now  because,  having  looked  at  it,  my  eyes 
ranged  over  the  heads  of  the  gapers  in  the  doorway  to  where 
Maclachlan,  on  the  fringe  of  the  group,  was  dodging  about 
to  find  a  place  where  he  could  see  Margaret  without  being 
seen  by  the  Prince. 

Master  Freake  was  talking  with  the  Prince  as  com- 
posedly as  if  they  had  been  friends  of  old  standing.  We 
had  missed  the  beginning  of  their  talk,  but  it  was  plain  that 
Charles  had  expected  a  recruit  and  was  disappointed. 


250  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  And  why  do  you  stand  aside  from  us  both  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  sedate  merchant,  "  I  am  not  interested  in 
making  kings." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Kingdoms,  sir." 

"  Kingdoms  !  "  cried  the  Prince. 

"  Kingdoms  !  "  reiterated  Master  Freake,  with  pride  and 
emphasis.  "  But  for  me,  and  men  like  me,  this  country  would 
be  a  waste  not  worth  fighting  for." 

The  Prince  looked  with  astonishment  at  the  calm,  solid 
man  who  made  this  strange  announcement.  After  a  minute's 
reflection,  he  said,  "  Mr.  Freake,  I  would  talk  with  you  in 
private,  if  you  will." 

"  With  pleasure,  sir,"  replied  Master  Freake. 

"  And,  naturally,  Mistress  Waynflete  will  not  be  cruel," 
continued  the  Prince,  offering  his  arm. 

Margaret  took  it,  and  the  procession  moved  on  again. 
Master  Freake  linked  his  arm  in  mine,  and  we  walked  on 
together. 

"  You've  had  adventures,  I  hear,  since  we  parted, 
Oliver." 

"  I  fell  into  the  claws  of  poetic  justice,"  I  answered, 
"  and,  having  failed  as  a  real  highwayman,  nearly  hanged 
as  an  imaginary  one." 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  keep  out  of  the  sergeant's  claws. 
He's  only  five  miles  off  with  a  brace  of  his  dragoons,  but 
little  Dot  is  watching  him.  The  time  to  deal  with  him  is 
not  yet.  Wait  till  his  lordship  of  Brocton  joins  him.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  Prince  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  have  believed  a  prince  could  be  so  likeable, 
sir." 

"  I  am,  and  shall  remain,  a  mere  observer,"  he  said,  "  a 
mere  tracker-down  of  ten  per  cent  on  good  security,  but  I 
don't  mind  admitting  that,  prince  for  prince,  I  prefer  this 
young  gentleman  to  the  fat.  snuffy,  waddling,  little  drill- 
sergeant  he's  trying  to  displace." 

"  You  know  the  King,  sir  !  " 

"  Well,  and  I  know  his  weak  spot,  too,  which  is  more 
important  for  our  purposes.  If  His  Gracious  Majesty  went 
to  bed  to-night  with  as  many  guineas  in  his  pocket  as  that  " 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  251 

— he  jingled  his  loose  coin  vigorously — "  he'd  sleep  in  his 
breeches." 

On  the  way  to  Exeter  House  the  Prince  recovered  his 
high  spirits,  and  even  kept  us  waiting  in  the  hall  while  he 
continued  some  lightsome  argument  Margaret  had  led  him 
into.  At  last  he  broke  it  off,  laughing. 

"  Mr.  Freake  will  think  me  an  idle  princeling  for  this, 
madam,"  he  said.  "  For  your  offence  in  thus  hindering  our 
matters  of  state  we  commit  you  to  ward,  and  straightly 
charge  our  loyal  subject,  Master  Wheatman,  to  hold  you 
safe  in  keeping  till  after  supper,  when  we  will  undertake  to 
show  you  that  our  Highland  reel  can  be  as  graceful  as  your 
Italian  fandango." 

So,  in  great  good  humour,  he  went  off  with  the  Colonel 
and  Master  Freake. 

"  Your  aide-de-camp's  commission  runs  so  far,  I  trust," 
said  Margaret  demurely,  "as  to  permit  me  to  choose  my 
own  cell." 

"  I  think  that  might  be  allowed,  madam,"  I  replied,  with 
answerable  gravity,  "  but  of  course  I  must  sit  outside  the 
door  and  keep  strict  watch  over  you." 

"  You  would,  I  suppose,  feel  surer  of  me  if  you  sat  inside 
the  door  ?  " 

"  Naturally,  madam." 

"  Then  come  along  !  I  must  know  all  that's  knowable 
about  that  ghost.  '  I  never  said  any  such  thing,'  quoth 
he  !  You're  the  cleverest  man  with  your  tongue  I  ever  met, 
Oliver.  And  with  what  a  pretty  heat  he  said  it !  Just  as, 
beyond  a  doubt,  he  did  it  with  that  pretty  way  he  has." 

If  words  were  tones,  and  smiles,  and  eye-flashes,  and 
lip-curlings,  I  could  tell  you  not  only  what  Margaret  said 
but  how  she  said  it,  and  how,  in  saying  it,  she  made  mad 
sweet  music  ring  within  me. 

We  were  out  in  the  square  again  now,  threading  our 
way  among  people  I  hardly  saw  for  being  so  wrapt  up  in  her. 

"  Was  she  a  pretty  ghost  ?  " 

"  Very,"  said  I  decidedly. 

"  How  old  was  she  ?  " 

"  Eighteen,  or  thereabouts." 

"  Eighteen  !    Oh,  dear  !     I  never  dreamed  it  was  as  bad 


252  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

as  that.  I  think  kiss-giving  and  kissable  ghosts  over  thirteen 
ought  not  to  be  allowed.  Eighteen  !  It's  a  clear  incitement 
to  suicide  !  " 

I  was  laughing  at  her  whimsical  sally  when  one  particular 
item  in  the  crowd  demanded  attention,  for  it  obtrusively 
barred  our  way.  It  was  Maclachlan,  once  again  hot  and  red 
with  haste,  waving  a  small  package  he  had  in  his  hand. 

"  Ye  left  me,  Mistress  Margaret,"  he  said.  "  I've  been 
searching  high  and  low  for  ye." 

"  And  I'm  glad  you've  found  me,  for  I  see  you've  got  me 
the  olives.  You  are  indeed  kind,  Mr.  Maclachlan." 

"  Ye  left  me  !  "  he  repeated  passionately. 

"  That's  true,"  she  said  lightly.  "  I  forgot  all  about 
you  till  I  saw  a  hand  with  an  obvious  bottle  of  olives  dangling 
from  it." 

Now  this  was  not  Margaret,  or  at  least  it  was  another 
strange  side  of  her.  With  me  she  had  been  almost  absurdly 
grateful  for  such  little  services  as  I  had  rendered.  I  had 
got  her  eggs,  as  he  had  got  her  olives,  but  I  and  my  eggs 
had  not  been  received  like  this.  I  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  curiously.  She  was  cool  and  smiling,  as  befitted  some 
small  social  occasion.  He  was  just  as  clearly  throbbing  with 
passion.  He,  the  Maclachlan,  had  been  neglected,  and 
neglected  for  me  !  I  wondered  why  Margaret  did  not  tell 
him  that  the  Prince  had  commanded  her  company.  That 
should  have  satisfied  even  him  ;  but  no,  she  left  him  in  his 
error,  and  merely  took  the  olives  out  of  his  hand,  saying, 
"  I  hope  they'll  be  fresh,  though  it's  hardly  to  be  expected 
in  a  little  town  in  the  middle  of  England." 

Maclachlan  had  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  me 
and,  while  ready  enough  to  deal  with  him,  I  paid  none  to 
him,  and  began  to  think  him  somewhat  of  an  ass  to  be 
standing  in  the  market-place  of  Derby  airing  his  passions. 
Fortunately,  perhaps,  Lord  George  Murray,  striding  by 
towards  Exeter  House,  caught  sight  of  us  and  stopped 
abruptly. 

"  Ha'  ye  made  a'  right  at  the  bridge  yonder,  Maclach- 
lan ?  " 

Tho  young  Chief's  face  supplied  the  answer. 

"  Ye    havenae !  "    stormed    Murray.     "  By    gad,    sir," 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  253 

lugging  out  his  watch,  "  if  you  don't,  in  two  hours  from 
now,  report  all  arrangements  made,  I'll  hae  ye  shot  by  a 
squad  of  the  Manchester  ragabushes.  Aff  wi'  ye,  ye 
jawthering  young  fule  !  " 

Maclachlan  went  off  without  so  much  as  a  bow  to 
Margaret. 

"  Have  you  taken  out  your  commission,  sir  ?  "  said 
Murray  to  me,  snapping  the  words  out  as  though  he  would 
have  them  shear  my  head  off. 

"  I  have,  my  lord,"  I  answered,  forestalling  the  words 
with  a  correct  military  salute. 

"  Then  what  the  blazes  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  My  lord,"  I  answered  firmly,  "  by  the  direct  commission 
of  His  Royal  Highness,  given  to  me  personally,  1  am 
escorting  this  lady  to  jail." 

"  Then  I'll  forgive  ye  !  "  he  retorted,  and  his  strong 
face  lost  all  its  anger  and  found  the  wraith  of  a  smile. 
"  Dinnae  be  too  hard  on  the  lassie  !  She's  ane  of  the  right 
sort." 

He  returned  my  salute,  bowed  courteously  to  Margaret, 
and  strode  on. 

"  Good  lad !  "  said  Margaret,  happily  mimicking  her 
father.  "  You  shall  have  some  of  the  olives  in  a  minute 
or  two." 

"  Olives  seem  to  me  precisely  the  right  thing  for  us," 
said  I. 

"  And  why,  sir  ?  " 

It  was  very  curious  to  me  to  see  how,  in  her  speech  to 
me,  she  whipped  about  from  the  familiar  "  Oliver  "  to  the 
stately  "  Sir."  There  was  always  a  reason  for  it,  and  I 
would  have  given  much  to  know  it. 

"  Your  olives  come  from  Italy,  and  I  have  been  thinking 
of  your  Italian  count." 

"  So  have  I,"  she  said  very  soberly,  and  never  said 
another  word  till  we  were  safe  and  quiet  in  her  day-room 
at  the  "  Bald-Faced  Stag." 

For  over  two  hours  I  had  Margaret  to  myself,  and  we 
were  as  happy  and  companionable  as  we  had  been  in  Dick 
Doley's  cottage.  And  at  this  I  marvelled.  Our  Kate  was 
the  only  woman  I  had  to  judge  by,  and  when  our  Kate 


254  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

got  into  her  very  best  Sunday  gown  she  got  into  her  tantrums 
along  with  it,  and  poor  Jack,  what  with  awe  of  her  finery 
and  anxiety  lest  he  should  anger  the  minx,  commonly  had 
a  thorny  time  of  it.  With  Margaret  it  was  just  the  opposite. 
When  we  got  in,  she  excused  herself  and  went  off  to  her 
own  room,  coming  back,  after  a  weary  time,  in  such  a  glory 
of  silks  and  satins  that  I  blinked  my  eyes  before  her  dazzle- 
ments.  What  made  it  worse  was  that  there  was  a  comb 
— as  she  called  it,  though  I  should  in  my  ignorance  have 
thought  it  some  rich  and  rare  work  in  filigree  belonging 
to  an  empress — which,  owing  to  the  smallness  of  her  mirror 
and  the  poor  light,  she  could  not  get  to  sit  perfectly  in  its 
golden  cushion,  and  I  was  bidden  to  put  it  where  and  as  it 
ought  to  be.  I  was  a  long  time  over  the  task,  in  part  because 
I  was  really  clumsy,  but  mainly  because  I  was  in  no  hurry. 
I  got  it  right  at  last,  and  even  ventured,  very  craftily  and 
lightly,  to  kiss  it  as  it  lay  there. 

"  It's  quite  right  now,"  said  I. 

"  At  last !  I'm  afraid  it's  been  a  trouble  to  you.  Now, 
Oliver,  open  the  bottle  of  olives,  and,  while  we  eat  them, 
tell  me  all  about  the  ghost." 

Many  a  time  in  the  hard  days  that  came  to  me  later, 
I  refreshed  my  soul  by  thinking  those  happy  hours  over 
again.  They  are  part  of  me,  but  no  part  of  my  story,  and 
I  make  no  record  of  them  here.  We  had  long  talks,  with 
long  silences  between  them,  as  can  only  happen  with  very 
real  friends  who  are  company  for  one  another  without  a 
clatter  of  words. 

A't  last  this  golden  time  came  to  an  end,  for  in  walked 
the  Colonel  and  Master  Freake  to  supper. 

"  I  am  thankful,"  said  the  Colonel  to  Margaret.  "  Murray 
told  me  you'd  been  taken  to  jail." 

"  You  heard  the  news  with  great  content,  I  suppose," 
said  Margaret. 

"  I  did,  because "  He  stopped  to  frown  into  the 

snuff-box. 

"  Because  of  what  ?  Pray  observe,  gentlemen,  what  an 
affectionate  father  I  have  !  " 

"  Because  he  also  told  me  the  name  of  your  jailer  !  " 

"  You   don't   deserve    to   have    a    daughter,"    declared 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  255 

Margaret,  with  such  a  pretence  of  vehemence  that  her  cheeks, 
between  and  beneath  her  coils  of  yellow  hair,  blazed  like  two 
poppies  in  a  wheat-shook. 

"  I've  made  up  for  it  by  deserving  something  even  better, 
and  that's  a  good  supper.  Pull  the  bell,  Oliver  !  " 

Arrived  in  the  great  chamber  at  Exeter  House,  we  found 
Charles  making  his  last  stand.  Feeling  ran  riot ;  there  was 
little  regard  for  the  regentship  of  the  Prince  ;  true  to  itself 
to  the  end,  the  Stuart  cause  was  dying  in  a  babel  of  broken 
counsels. 

The  ladies  of  the  party  were  collected,  uncertain  and  dis- 
quieted, on  the  hearth,  where  Margaret  joined  them,  while 
the  Colonel  and  I  made  our  way  and  stood  behind  the 
Prince. 

"  His  Grace  of  Perth  desires  to  go  on,"  said  Charles. 
"  So  does  Glencoe.  So  do  my  faithful  Irish  friends.  Your 
men,  as  you  well  know,  expect  to  go  on.  To  get  them  to  go 
back,  you  must  start  in  the  dead  of  night  and  lie  to  them, 
telling  them  they  are  going  on.  Only  you,  their  chiefs  and 
fathers,  want  to  go  back." 

"  To  hell  with  the  Irish  !  "  cried  one  from  the  back- 
ground. "  They're  no'  worth  the  dad  of  a  bonnet." 

"  It's  no  matter  to  them,"  said  another  man  by  him. 
"  They've  neither  haid  nor  maid  to  lose." 

This  fetched  O' Sullivan  to  his  feet  in  a  tearing  rage. 
"We've  got  lives  to  lose,"  he  cried,  "and.  by  G — ,  we're 
not  afraid  to  lose  'em  !  " 

At  this  the  yelling  must  have  been  heard  in  the  square, 
and  the  gesticulating  and  grimacing  would  have  been  amusing 
on  a  less  serious  occasion.  At  last,  in  a  lull  in  the  gale,  the 
Colonel,  addressing  the  Prince,  curtly  demanded,  "  Who  is 
the  chief  military  commander  of  your  army,  sir  ?  " 

"  My  Lord  George  Murray,"  answered  Charles  bitterly. 

"  Then  it's  time  your  commander  commanded.  This 
spells  disaster  whether  we  go  on  or  go  back." 

"  It's  the  plain  truth  you're  telling,  Colonel  Waynflete," 
said  Lord  Ogilvie  loudly.  In  an  undertone  I  heard  him 
say,  "  Oot  wi'  it,  Geordie  !  " 

When  Murray  arose,  everybody  knew  the  finishing  touch 


256  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

was  to  be  put  to  the  business,  and  a  strained  silence  fell  on 
the  assembly. 

"  I  have  advised  ye  to  go  back,  sir,"  he  said,  "  because, 
in  the  complete  absence  of  the  support  we  were  led  to  expect, 
it  is  foolish  to  go  on.  Your  Royal  Highness  wants  to  go  on, 
and  there's  not  a  man  here  who  does  not  honour  you  for  your 
courage.  Now,  sir,  I  will  go  on,  and  so  shall  every  man  here 
I  can  command  or  influence,  if  those  who  hae  tell't  ye  behind 
my  back  that  they  think  we  ought  to  go  on  will  put  their 
opinion  down  in  writing  and  subscribe  their  names  to  it, 
here  and  now.  One  condition  more,  sir.  That  writing,  so 
subscribed,  shall  be  sent  by  a  sure  hand  direct  from  this 
town  to  His  Majesty  in  Rome,  so  that  he  may  judge  each  man 
justly." 

"  I  agree,"  said  Charles  eagerly.  "  Pen  and  paper,  Mr. 
Secretary  !  " 

It  at  once  became  clear,  however,  that  Murray  had  taken 
the  measure  of  the  men  he  had  to  deal  with. 

"  Why  make  flesh  of  one  and  fish  of  another  ?  "  asked 
O' Sullivan,  and  old  Sir  Thomas  nodded  approval  of  the 
question. 

"  The  decision  should  be  the  decision  of  the  Council," 
said  the  Duke  of  Perth. 

"  Will  ye  write  your  names  to  it,  or  will  ye  not  ?  " 
demanded  Murray. 

No  one  spoke. 

"  That  settles  it,  sir,"  said  Murray.  "  But  I  desire  you, 
Mr.  Secretary,  to  make  a  note  of  my  offer  and  its  recep- 
tion." 

"  Have  your  way  !  "  said  Charles,  in  sullen  anger.  "  But 
it  settles  another  thing  for  ye.  I  call  no  more  councils." 

He  turned  and  strode  out  of  the  room.  The  Stuart 
cause  was  in  its  coffin,  and  it  only  remained  for  us  to  give 
it  a  fair  burial. 

When  the  door  closed  behind  the  Prince,  the  Colonel 
whispered  in  my  ear,  "  Slip  off  and  tell  Freake  !  " 

I  did  the  journey  at  a  lun,  and  found  Master  Freake 
sitting,  quietly  meditative,  but  booted  and  spurred  for  his 
journey. 

"  Well,  Oliver  ?  " 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  257 

"  We  go  back  to-night." 

In  five  minutes  I  was  standing  in  the  Ironmarket  at  his 
grey  mare's  head. 

"  I'm  not  deserting  you,  lad,"  said  he,  gripping  my  hand 
heartily. 

"  Of  course  not,  sir.     Good-bye,  and  good  luck  !  " 

"  My  love  to  Margaret.  Look  out  for  the  sergeant. 
Good-bye  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXII 
A  BROTHER  OF  THE  LAMP 

TWO  days  afterwards,  towards  six  o'clock  on  a  bitter 
evening,  I  rode  wearily  into  Leek.  I  was  having  a 
hard  apprenticeship  in  soldiering  under  a  master  who 
had  no  idea  of  sparing  either  me  or  himself.  For  the  Colonel 
had  accepted  the  post  of  second,  under  Murray,  in  command 
of  our  rear-guard,  and  had  made  it  a  condition  of  accept- 
ance that  I  should  be  with  him.  Some  thirty  Highlanders, 
mostly  Macdonalds,  picked  dare-devils,  had  been  mounted 
and  turned  into  dragooners,  and  I,  thanks  to  the  Colonel,  had 
been  made  Captain  over  them. 

"  The  lad's  no  experience,  but  he's  got  sense,"  he  said  to 
my  lord  George  Murray. 

"  I  ken  him  weel  aneugh,"  said  his  lordship.  "  He 
threatened  to  knock  my  head  off.  D'ye  ca'  that  sense,  Kit 
Waynflete  ?  " 

"  Since  your  head's  still  on  your  shoulders,"  said  the 
Colonel,  fumbling  for  his  snuff,  "I  do.  He  knocked  Mac- 
lachlan's  Donald  into  a  log  of  timber,  and,  damme,  I  hardly 
saw  his  hand  move." 

"  That's  only  a  trick,  sir,"  I  protested. 

"  Weel,  Captain  Wheatman,"  said  Murray,  "  keep  your 
ugly  English  tricks  to  y'rsel.  Mind  ye,  colonel  or  no 
colonel,  I'll  break  ye  first  chance  ye  gie  me." 

Maclachan  was,  I  must  say,  very  obliging  and  compli- 


258  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

mentary  over  my  promotion.  He  gave  me  Donald  to  be 
my  sergeant  and  personal  servant,  finding  him,  how  I  knew 
not,  a  horse  strong  enough  to  carry  him  easily. 

"  It  is  ferra  guid,"  said  Donald  to  his  chief.  "  Er  shall  pe 
lookit  to  as  if  her  were  ma  mither's  own  son." 

To  me,  Captain  Wheatman,  clinking  about  in  the  corridor 
waiting  for  the  Colonel,  comes  William,  suave  and  confi- 
dential as  ever. 

"  Well,  William,  said  I.     "  Any  more  coincidences  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  he,  and  began  his  hand-washing. 

"  You'll  die  a  rich  man,  William." 

"  No,  sir.  This  particular  coincidence  made  me  the 
poorer  by,  I  should  say,"  suspending  his  washing  to  calculate, 
"  some  five  shillings." 

"  The  devil  it  did  !     How  was  that  ?  " 

"  Your  honour's  clothes  that  you  left  behind,  sir,  when 
you  were  transmuted,  as  my  lord  would  say  were  stolen." 

"  And  you  value  them  at  five  shillings !  I  ought  to 
crack  your  head  for  you." 

"  Yes,  sir.  Cast-offs  sells  very  cheap,  sir.  But  the 
coincidence,  sir  !  I've  not  really  come  to  that  yet." 

"  Go  on,  William  !     You  interest  me  deeply." 

"  I  found  them,  sir,  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  torn  to 
rags,  sir !  " 

"  And  sold  'em  for  fivepence  !     Eh,  thrifty  William  ?  " 

"  Sixpence,  to  be  exact,  sir  !  " 

The  Colonel  rushed  me  off,  but  I  found  time  to  give  the 
rascal  a  crown,  which  put  him  sixpence  in  pocket.  A  servant 
ought  to  have  his  vails,  and,  besides,  William's  concern 
amused  me  a  good  crown's  worth. 

This  was  late  on  in  the  night  after  the  final  decision  to 
go  back,  and  since  then  I  had  been  scouting  miles  behind  the 
main  body  of  our  rear-guard,  so  as  to  make  sure  that  the 
Duke's  horse  were  not  on  our  track.  I  had  slept  by  driblets 
as  opportunity  offered.  Now,  my  purpose  accomplished, 
I  was  looking  forward  to  supper  and  bed,  having  left  a  patrol 
of  fresh  men  some  six  miles  back  to  watch  the  southern  road. 

There  was  one  thing  in  my  mind,  however,  that  must  be 
attended  to  first.  I  must  see  Mistress  Hardy  of  Hardiwick. 
My  heart  ached  for  her,  for  I  knew  how  sorely  she  would  feel 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  259 

the  retreat  of  the  Prince.  Moreover,  the  clansmen  were  not 
likely  to  discriminate  between  her  and  other  townsfolk,  and 
I  would  save  her  from  disturbance.  So,  jumping  off  the 
sorrel,  and  giving  him  in  charge  to  one  of  my  men,  I  started 
for  the  little  cottage.  I  was  turning  the  corner  out  of  the 
square  when  some  one,  running  lightly  behind  me,  placed  a 
hand  on  my  arm  and  detained  me.  It  was  Margaret. 

"  You've  no  need  to  trouble,  Oliver,"  she  said.  "  I've 
kept  a  room  for  you  at  the  '  Angel.'  ' 

"  Thank  you,"  I  replied.     "  You  are  very  kind,  madam." 

"  Poof !  Come  along !  You're  so  tired  that  you  can 
hardly  keep  your  eyes  open  to  look  at  me.  Come  along, 
sir  !  "  She  was  merrily  pulling  at  my  arm  as  she  spoke. 
"  I  don't  want  to  be  obliged  to  return  you  every  service,  you 
know,  sir !  " 

"  No,  madam  !     Certainly  not." 

"  No,  indeed,  sir !  I'm  not  going  to  put  you  to  bed, 
except  as  the  very  last  resource." 

"  Fortunately,  madam,  I'm  a  long  way  from  needing 
that.  In  a  few  minutes  I  shall  gladly  take  advantage  of 
your  care  for  me.  First,  however,  I  must  see  to  our  old 
friend  to  whom  the  Prince  gave  the  brooch." 

"  We'll  go  together  !  "  said  Margaret,  putting  her  arm 
in  mine. 

The  cottage  was  dark  and  silent,  welcome  proof  that 
she  was  undisturbed.  I  knocked  gently,  and,  after  a  short 
delay,  the  door  opened,  and  her  woman  appeared,  candle 
in  hand. 

"  I  knew  you'd  come,  sir,"  she  said  simply.  "  And  this 
is  your  lady  !  Come  in  !  " 

Candle  in  hand,  she  paced  ahead  of  us  to  the  door  of  the 
room,  and  then  stood  aside,  erect  and  solemn,  to  let  us  pass 
in.  I  looked  at  her  closely.  The  worried,  anxious  look  on 
her  comely  face  had  gone,  and  she  was  subdued,  calm,  and 
happy. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  she  whispered.     "  She's  at  peace  !  " 

I  stepped  ahead  of  Margaret  into  the  fine  old  room,  with 
its  pleasant  memorials  of  ancientry.  There  they  were,  just 
as  I  had  seen  them — scutcheon,  portrait,  glove,  and  pounce- 
box.  There  was  no  change  in  them  ;  they  were  the  abiding 


260  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

elements  on  which  a  strong  soul  had  kept  itself  strong.  But 
change  there  was.  At  the  prie-Dieu,  kneeling  in  a  rapture 
before  the  Virgin  Mother,  was  a  solemn,  black-robed  priest. 
A  narrow  white  bed  was  in  the  room.  Two  large  candles 
burned  steadily  at  its  head,  two  at  the  foot ;  and  on  the 
bed,  the  linen  turned  down  to  reveal  the  thin,  frail  hands 
crossed  below  the  Prince's  brooch,  lay  the  still,  white  form 
of  our  lady  of  the  square.  God  had  taken  her  to  Himself. 
Death  had  caught  her  with  a  welcoming  smile  on  her  face, 
and,  in  pity  and  ruth,  had  left  it  there. 

The  Hardys  of  Hardiwick  had  given  their  last  gift  to  the 
cause. 

Tears  were  streaming  down  Margaret's  cheeks.  With 
shaking  hands  she  removed  her  hat  and,  kneeling  down  at 
the  bedside,  clasped  her  hands  in  prayer. 

"  She  talked  no  end  about  you,  sir,"  whispered  the 
serving- woman,  "  and  about  the  beautiful  lady  with  you. 
That  standing  in  the  cold  square  to  see  the  Prince  was  the 
death  of  her.  She  would  have  her  bed  put  down  here,  sir. 
She  wanted  to  die  here,  with  the  old  shield  in  her  eyes,  for 
she  was  proud  of  h.er  blood,  as  well  she  might  be." 

"  Yes,"  I  whispered  back.  "  She  was  the  last  of  a  great 
race." 

"  Aye,  sir.  She  was  that.  She  was  a  bit  moithered  in 
her  mind,  dear  heart,  just  afore  she  went.  The  last  words 
she  said  were  a  prayer  for  his  soul, — her  sweetheart  you 
know,  sir,  that  she  lost  sixty  years  ago, — just  as  I'd  heard 
her  pray  thousands  of  times.  But,  poor  thing,  she  got  his 
name  wrong.  She  called  him  '  John.'  ' 

Choking,  I  threw  myself  on  my  knees  beside  Margaret, 
and  prayed  and  fought,  and  fought  and  prayed  again.  Here, 
before  me,  I  saw  Death  in  the  only  shape  in  which  it  can  give 
no  sorrow — sinless  age  that  had  gently  glided  into  immor- 
tality ;  and,  with  equal  vision,  I  saw  the  black  passage  .  .  . 
and  the  still  twisted  thing  lying  there  in  a  patch  of  gloom 
.  .  .  my  friend,  gone  in  the  pride  of  his  youth  .  .  .  his  life 
spilt  out  in  anger  and  agony  .  .  .  and  by  me.  Then  the 
innocent  hand  of  her  for  whom,  though  all  unwittingly,  I 
had  done  this  thing,  crept  on  to  my  shoulder,  and  I  turned 
to  look  at  her. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  261 

"  Thank  God  we  came,  Oliver !  "  she  whispered. 

Before  we  could  rise,  the  black-robed  priest  lifted  his 
tall,  gaunt  frame  slowly  from  the  firie-Dieu.  Standing  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  bed  he  raised  his  hands  in  blessing. 

"  Our  sister  is  with  God,"  he  said,  his  deep  voice  vibrant 
with  emotion.  "  My  children,  you  are,  as  I  think,  those  who 
were  much  in  her  prayers  at  the  last.  I  know  not  who  you 
are,  but,  in  her  memory  and  in  God's  name,  I  give  you  in 
this  life  His  Peace,  and  in  the  life  to  come  the  assurance  of 
His  Everlasting  Blessedness.  Amen." 

He  ceased.  Gravely,  and  in  a  solemn  silence,  he  knelt 
again  at  the  prie-Dieu.  We  rose.  First  Margaret,  and 
then  I,  kissed  the  Prince's  brooch  and  the  folded  hands,  and 
then  stole  out  of  the  room.  We  were  too  awe-stricken  to 
speak,  or  even  to  look  at  each  other,  but,  as  we  went,  she 
placed  her  hand  in  mine. 

Weary  days,  full  of  hard  riding  and  scouting,  passed 
before  I  saw  Margaret  again.  I  was  always  in  the  rear, 
generally  far  in  the  rear,  while  she  and  the  other  ladies  were, 
very  properly,  kept  well  ahead.  She  now  rode  in  the  calash 
with  Lady  Ogilvie, — the  two  being  inseparable, — and  Mac- 
lachlan  was  with  them.  My  work  was  hard  and  anxious 
but  it  kept  me  from  thinking  overmuch.  I  put  all  my  soul 
into  it  so  that  it  should. 

"  The  lad  does  very  well,  as  I  told  you  he  would,"  said 
the  Colonel  to  Murray  one  night  when  I  rode  in  to  make  my 
report. 

"  I  see  no  signs  of  my  chance  of  breaking  him,"  said  his 
lordship  grimly,  but  he  would  have  me  sup  with  him  that 
night,  and  was  very  unbending  and  helpful. 

There  is  nothing  I  need  say  about  this  stage  of  the  retreat. 
It  was  well  managed,  and  is,  I  am  told,  a  very  creditable 
piece  of  soldiership.  It  does  not  belong  to  my  story  but  to 
history,  to  which  I  leave  it. 

Things  did  happen,  however,  that  do  concern  me.  The 
first  was  laughable  though  vexatious.  This  was  the  manner 
of  it. 

While  the  Prince  was  making  the  stage  from  Macclesfield 
to  Manchester,  and  Murray  and  the  Colonel  were  in  force  a 
few  miles  in  his  rear,  I  had  to  keep  the  country  behind  them 


262  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

well  observed.  I  had  one  patrol  within  sight  of  Maccles- 
field,  and  others  stretching  out  along  an  edge  of  upland 
country  running  westward  to  the  next  main  road.  I  spent 
the  night  in  a  little  wayside  ale-house,  and  was  having  my 
breakfast  next  morning  when  I  was  disturbed  by  a  succession 
of  yells  from  without. 

I  ran  into  the  yard  and  there  was  Donald,  the  rough  head 
of  one  of  my  dragoons  in  each  hand,  banging  them  together, 
varying  his  bangs  with  kicks  at  any  accessible  spot,  and 
shrieking  at  them  in  Gaelic,  while  they  shrieked  back  and 
wriggled  to  escape.  He  stopped  when  he  saw  me,  but  still 
held  them  by  the  pow. 

"  What's  it  all  about,  Donald  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  loons  !  It's  Glencoe  'erself  sail  hang  'em,"  he  said 
breathlessly. 

"  What  for  ?     Out  with  it,  Donald  !  " 

"  Yes,  you  gomeril " — shoving  one  of  the  men  sprawling 
into  the  stable — "  oot  wi'  it !  Bring  your  tarn  rogues 
wark  'ere  !  " 

The  man  came  sheepishly  out  with  my  saddle,  cut  and 
ripped  and  gutted  till  it  wasn't  worth  a  sou. 

Strict  and  stern  inquiry  threw  little  light  on  the  matter. 
I  had  my  own  suspicions,  namely,  of  two  licorous  raffatags 
in  the  so-called  Manchester  regiment,  whom  I  had  hand- 
somely kicked  out  of  a  roadside  cottage  where  they  were  for 
behaving  after  their  kind.  They  had  been  seen  prowling 
about  the  curtilage  of  the  ale-house  the  night  before. 

I  went  back  to  my  breakfast.  For  a  few  hours  I  had  to 
make  shift  with  the  saddle  of  one  of  my  dragoons,  but,  after 
a  short  halt  later  on,  Donald  brought  out  the  sorrel  with  a 
fine,  and  nearly  new,  saddle. 

"  Tat's  petter,"  said  he.     "  'Er  sail  ride  foine  now." 

"  This  cost  you  a  twa-three  bawbees,  I'll  be  bound,"  I 
remarked. 

Donald  grinned  intelligently  and  I  made  no  closer  inquiry. 
The  good  fellow  made  me  uncomfortable,  for  he  would  have 
slit  the  throat  of  the  greatest  squire  along  the  road  to  get 
me  a  shoe-lace. 

Early  next  morning  his  lordship  sent  me  ahead  into 
Manchester  with  a  dispatch  for  the  Prince,  who  had  spent 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  263 

the  night  there.  It  was  a  welcome  task,  for  it  would,  I  hoped, 
give  me  at  least  a  sight  of  Margaret.  Instead  of  this  sweet 
meat,  however,  I  got  sour  sauce. 

When  I  got  there  our  army  was  beginning  its  onward 
march,  and  there  were  thousands  of  people  about  to  watch 
the  clansmen  fall  in,  and  little  disguise  they  made  of  their 
feelings.  As  it  happened,  when  I  rode  into  the  square, 
Ogilvie's  large  regiment  was  lining  up,  and  he  left  it  in  charge 
of  his  major  to  come  and  talk  to  me. 

"  I'm  wishing  you'd  come  half  an  hour  ago,"  he  began. 
"  Ishbel  would  ha'  given  much  to  see  you,  and  so  wad  some 
one  else,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Have  the  ladies  started  already  ?  "  I  asked,  with  painful 
carelessness. 

"  Losh,  man,  Maclachlan  has  'em  up  and  away  the  morn 
in  fine  style.  He's  getting  a  very  attentive  chiel  is  Mac- 
lachlan, and  I  wonder  ma  Ishbel  disna  like  him  better  than 
she  does.  There's  too  damn  few  of  us  to  be  spitting  and 
sparring  among  ourselves." 

"  This  is  so,  my  lord,"  I  said. 

"  I'm  just  plain  Davie  to  ma  friends,"  he  said  simply. 
'*  I'm  no  exactly  a  man  after  God's  ain  heart,  like  my  Bible 
namesake,  but  I  hae  no  speeritual  pride  where  a  guid  man's 
concernit.  and  it  ill  becomes  men  who  are  in  the  same  boat, 
and  that  only  a  cockle-shell  thing,  to  be  swapping  off  court 
terms  wi'  ane  anither.  They're  aff,  an'  we  mun  step  it  out. 
An'  I'm  no  really  a  lord." 

"  I  want  the  Prince's  lodging,  Davie,"  I  explained,  as  we 
walked  on  the  causeway  level  with  the  head  of  his  column. 

"  We  march  past  it,  an'  I'll  drop  ye  there.  The  young 
man  takes  it  verra  ill.  The  heart's  clean  melted  oot  of  him. 
An'  sma'  wonder !  See  the  sour,  mum  bodies  in  this  town  ! 
When  we  came  down  there  were  bonfires  an'  bell-ringings, 
an'  cheerings,  an'  mostly  every  windie  wi'  a  lit  candle,  may- 
be twa-three,  in  it.  The  leddies,  an'  they're  nae  bad-lookin' 
lassies  either,  had  bunches  o'  plaid  ribbons  in  their  bosoms 
an' — this  I  hae  from  Maclachlan — plaid  gairters  to  their 
stockings." 

In  such  talk  we  spent  the  way  to  the  Prince's  lodging, 
where  I  charged  him  to  carry  my  greetings  to  the  ladies.  He 


264  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

wrung  my  hand  in  parting  and,  his  major  having  halted  the 
regiment,  stepped  proudly  to  the  head  of  his  men.  I  stood 
on  the  edge  of  the  causeway,  drew  my  sword,  and  stood  at 
the  salute,  according  to  the  courtesy  of  the  wars.  He  re- 
turned the  honour  in  like  soldierly  fashion,  rapped  out  a 
command,  and  so  passed  on  into  the  hungry  North.  It  was 
the  last  I  was  to  see  of  Davie,  commonly  called  the  Lord 
Ogilvie. 

To  my  astonishment  the  Prince  was  not  yet  risen,  and  it 
was  some  time  before  he  came  to  me  in  his  day-room,  where 
I  was  awaiting  him.  I  rose  and  bowed  as  he  entered,  and 
gave  him  the  dispatch. 

"  Curse  your  foul  English  weather,  Captain  Wheatman. 
It's  getting  into  my  bones." 

This  was,  I  fancy,  only  his  way  of  excusing  to  me  the  nip 
of  brandy  he  was  pouring  out. 

"  That's  better  !  "  he  said,  putting  down  the  empty  glass. 
"  I  have  something  to  thank  France  for  after  all."  He 
laughed  at  his  own  poor  joke,  but  there  was  no  ring  of  merri- 
ment in  his  laughter,  and  added,  "  Now  for  what  my  runaway 
general  has  to  say." 

He  read  the  letter  impatiently  and  sneeringly.  "  I 
suppose  Mr.  Secretary  must  write  something  back,"  was  his 
comment.  "  It  doesn't  matter  much  what,  since  we're 
running  away  as  fast  as  our  legs  can  carry  us.  Any  fool,  or 
rogue,  or  Murray  can  run  away." 

He  paced  up  and  down  the  room  with  long  angry  strides, 
muttering  words  I  did  not  understand.  Suddenly  he  stopped, 
and  turned  on  me  with  the  smiling,  princely  face  of  the  greater 
Charles  I  knew  and  liked. 

"  Curse  me  for  an  ingrate  !  I  am  heartily  obliged  to  you, 
Captain  Wheatman,  for  your  pains.  My  lord  speaks  of  you 
in  high  terms  of  praise.  And  I  must  not  keep  you.  Murray 
must  have  his  answer.  Come  with  me,  and  Mr.  Secretary 
shall  take  it  down  while  I  have  my  breakfast." 

I  followed  him  out  and  along  a  passage  with  doors  on 
either  side,  outside  one  of  which  stood  a  servant  or  sentry, 
who  had  eyed  me  furtively  on  my  coming  inward.  When 
he  saw  the  Prince,  he  opened  the  door  and  thrust  in  his  head, 
to  announce  our  visit.  He  was  clumsy,  too,  and,  keeping  his 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  265 

head  round  the  edge  of  the  door  too  long,  bumped  into  the 
Prince,  who  rapped  out  an  oath  and  flung  him  aside.  As  I 
followed  Charles  in,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  back  of  a  man 
in  a  heavy  mulberry  wrap-rascal,  guarded  with  tarnished 
silver  braid  at  the  cuffs  and  pockets,  who  was  hastily  leaving 
the  Secretary's  room  by  an  inner  door. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  Charles  sneeringly.  "  More  plots  and 
politics  !  If  I  could  be  schemed  into  a  crown,  you'd  be  the 
man  to  do  it." 

"  I  must  be  acquent  wi'  what  gaes  on  in  the  toun,  your 
Royal  Highness,  an'  ma  man  yonder's  a  rare  ferret,  but  I 
didna  think  him  worthy  to  be  in  the  presence,  sae  I  just 
bundled  him  oot." 

"  All  your  plotting  and  contrivings  will  not  do  you  as 
much  good  as  a  glass  of  brandy.  The  climate's  getting  at 
you." 

Indeed  Mr.  Secretary  was  all  of  a  shake,  and  looked  in  a 
scared  manner  from  the  Prince  to  me  and  back  again. 

"  It's  naething  but  a  little  queasiness,  such  as  we  elder, 
bookish  men  are  apt  to  get  by  ower-much  application.  Your 
Royal  Highness  is  gracious  to  note  my  little  ailments,"  said 
he  smoothly.  He  had  recovered  already. 

"  Try  brandy  !  "  said  Charles.  "  It  settles  the  stomach 
fine.  Well,  come  and  take  down  a  reply  to  this  while  I  have 
some  breakfast !  " 

The  queasiness  seemed  to  return,  for  Mr.  Secretary  was 
slow,  captious,  and  argumentative,  though  the  matter  of  the 
dispatch  was  only  as  to  where  the  army  should  halt  for  a 
day's  rest.  At  last  Preston  was  decided  on,  and  the  dispatch 
written  accordingly.  I  bowed  myself  out,  jumped  on  the 
sorrel,  and  started  for  the  Stockport  road. 

Our  rear  was  closer  up  than  usual  this  morning.  Man- 
chester, being  a  considerable  town,  was  not  to  be  cleared  of 
our  main  of  troops  until  the  first  column  of  the  rear  was  in 
the  southern  skirts  of  the  town.  Outside  the  Prince's 
lodging,  his  escort  of  life-guards  was  now  drawn  up.  As  I 
rode  along  the  edge  of  the  market-square  the  Camerons  were 
massing,  and  the  streets  adjacent  were  seething  with  clans- 
men. 

I  put  the  sorrel  to  it  and  was  soon  out  in  the  low  open 


266  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

country.  After  cantering  a  mile  or  so,  I  caught  sight  of 
two  horsemen,  well  ahead  of  me,  riding  south  at  a  round 
gallop.  One  of  them  wore  a  big  mulberry  wrap-rascal. 
It  is  no  uncommon  garment  to  see  along  a  turnpike  on  a 
biting  December  day,  but,  ten  minutes  later,  after  they 
dropped  to  a  walk  to  ease  their  horses  up  a  slope,  I  saw  the 
silver  guarding  round  the  pockets. 

If  this  were  the  man  I  had  seen  hurrying  out  of  Mr. 
Secretary's  room,  a  look  at  him  would  be  worth  while,  so 
I  spurred  after  them.  The  clatter  I  made  had  the  desired 
effect.  At  the  top  of  the  slope,  wrap-rascal  turned  round. 
It  was  Weir,  the  Government  spy.  He  squealed  to  his 
companion,  who  looked  back  in  turn.  My  heart  leaped 
fiercely  at  the  sight  of  his  seamed  leathery  face  and  dab-of- 
putty  nose.  It  was  the  sergeant  of  dragoons. 

Down  the  slope  they  raced,  with  me  after  them  full 
tilt,  proud  as  a  peacock  to  be  driving  two  men  headlong 
before  me,  and  one  of  them  an  old  campaigner.  It  was 
my  undoing.  The  road  was  lined  with  straggling  hedges, 
and  a  long  pistol  shot  ahead,  a  cross-track  cut  it.  The 
sergeant  was  giving  orders  to  the  spy  as  they  rode,  and 
at  the  crossway  the  sergeant,  shouting,  "  Shoot  low ! " 
turned  sharp  to  the  left  while  the  spy  made  for  the  right. 

It  was  a  pretty  trick,  for  it  put  me  between  two  fires. 
I  was  on  the  spy's  pistol  hand  as  he  turned,  and  he  let  fly 
at  me,  not  out  of  calculated  bravery,  as  his  face  plainly 
showed,  but  in  a  flurry  of  despair.  The  motive  behind  a 
shot,  however,  does  not  matter.  It's  the  bullet  that  counts, 
and  his  got  me  just  above  the  left  elbow.  I  was  up  in  my 
stirrups,  aiming  at  the  sergeant,  who  was  pulling  his  horse 
round  to  be  at  me.  I  saw  splinters  fly  from  a  bough  to 
his  right. 

I  had  not  looked  to  the  spy.  Now  a  shot  rang  out  down 
the  lane  on  his  side.  It  was  followed  by  a  piercing  shriek, 
and  this  by  another  shot.  In  between  the  shots,  the 
serjeant  wheeled  round,  and  raced  off  down  the  lane  for 
dear  life,  spurring  and  flogging  like  a  maniac.  It  was 
useless  to  follow.  My  rein  hand  had  lost  its  grip,  my  arm 
felt  aflame,  and  blood  was  already  dripping  fast  from  my 
helpless  fingers. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  267 

Looking  down  the  lane,  I  saw  Weir  lying  in  the  road, 
and  a  strange  horseman  climbing  down  from  his  saddle. 
I  rode  up  to  him. 

"  How  d'ye  do  ?"  he  said  affably.  "  Sorry  I  could  not 
get  the  other  chap  for  you,  but  I  meant  having  Turnditch. 
The  dirty  rascal  has  sent  his  last  lad  to  the  gallows.  Faugh  ! 
I  could  spit  on  his  carrion." 

A  glance  to  the  road  showed  that  he  was  right.  The 
spy's  blank,  yellow  face  was  turned  upwards  ;  his  eyes, 
with  the  horror  of  hell  still  in  them,  stared  wide-open  at 
the  sky.  Just  above  his  right  eyebrow  there  was  a  hole 
I  could  have  put  my  finger  in. 

"  Damn  my  silly  eyes  !  "  cried  the  stranger.  "  You're 
winged,  sir,  and  badly.  It  must  be  seen  to  at  once." 

He  helped  me  down,  took  off  my  coat  and  waistcoat, 
and  turned  up  my  shirt-sleeve,  doing  all  this  deftly  and 
almost  womanly. 

"  Hurrah  !  Missed  the  bone  and  gone  clear  through  ! 
Put  you  right  in  no  time  !  Plug  down  your  finger  there, 
sir,  while  I  cut  a  stick.  That's  excellent.  You  won't  mind 
if  I  keep  you  while  I  reload  my  barkers  ?  The  safe  side, 
you  know  !  " 

With  his  handkerchief  and  my  own,  and  a  length  of. 
hazel  for  a  tourniquet,  he  bound  up  the  wound,  and  with 
much  skill,  for  he  at  once  reduced  the  flow  of  blood  to  a 
mere  trickle.  While  he  was  busy  over  me,  I  took  stock  of 
him. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  my  own  age  and  height,  but 
slimmer  and  wirier.  His  features  were  rather  irregular, 
but  an  intelligent,  humorous  look  atoned  for  this  defect, 
and  his  bright  grey  eyes  were  the  quickest  I  have  ever  seen. 
Though  an  utter  stranger,  there  was  a  puzzling  familiarity 
about  him,  and  I  tried  hard  to  recall  which  of  my  acquaintance 
featured  him.  His  horse,  now  cropping  at  the  roadside, 
was  a  splendid  brown  blood  mare,  the  best  horse,  barring 
Sultan,  I  had  seen  for  many  a  day.  The  last  thing  I  noted 
was  that  the  man  was  singularly  well  dressed. 

"  That's  patched  you  up  till  you  can  get  to  a  regular 
doctor.  There's  a  first-class  man  at  Stockport,  opposite 
the  west  door  of  the  church,  Bamford  by  name.  You  can't 


268 

miss  his  place,  and  he'll  pocket  his  fee  like  a  wise  man  ind 
ask  no  questions." 

"  You've  done  very  well,  sir,"  said  I.  "  The  blood  has 
almost  ceased  to  flow.  I'm  greatly  beholden  to  you." 

"  Say  no  more  !  "  he  cried  earnestly.  "  It's  a  boon 
you've  conferred  on  me,  if  you  only  knew  it.  Nemo  repente 
turpissimus,  as  we  say." 

"  Video  proboque,  as  we  also  say,"  I  countered,  smiling. 

"  Oddones  !  A  brother  of  the  lamp  !  "  he  cried,  laughing 
shortly,  and  suddenly  sobering.  "  I  must  be  on.  Sorry  to 
leave  you,  sir,  but  I  think  you're  all  right.  Take  care,  how- 
ever. I  was  touched  myself  t'other  day,  and  the  damned 
hole  in  my  ribs  still  bleeds  if  I  exert  myself  too  much." 

"  You  should  surely  be  in  bed,  if  there's  a  hole  in  your 
ribs." 

"  In  bed !  "  he  sniffed.  "  I  took  to  bed,  egad,  and  nearly 
got  pinched.  Now  I've  no  need  for  exertion.  In  this  gap 
between  the  Highlanders,  I'm  as  snug  as  a  flea  in  a  blanket." 

After  helping  me  into  my  clothes  and  on  to  my  horse,  he 
strolled  up  to  the  dead  man. 

"  Well,  Turnditch,"  he  said,  "  you  know  everything  now, 
or  nothing."  Then,  dropping  lightly  on  his  knee,  he  turned 
gaily  to  me,  and  said,  "  Always  plunder  the  Egyptian,  dead 
or  alive." 

He  rifled  the  spy's  pockets  with  the  easy  indifference  of 
an  expert,  singing  as  he  turned  them  out : 

"The  priest  calls  the  lawyer  a  cheat; 
The  lawyer  beknaves  the  d:vine  ; 
And  the  statesman  because  he's  so  great, 
Thinks  his  trade  is  as  honest  as  mine." 

He  stopped  his  singing  and,  tossing  a  well-stuffed  leather 
bag  up  and  down  in  his  hand,  said,  "  There's  really  no 
objection  to  virtue  when  the  jade  is  not  her  own  reward. 
Chunk !  chunk !  There's  alchemy  for  you !  Half  an 
ounce  of  lead  into  half  a  pound  of  gold  !  " 

He  stowed  the  bag  in  his  pocket,  jumped  on  his  mare, 
and  together  we  walked  our  horses  to  the  turnpike,  where 
we  halted  side  by  side,  our  horses'  heads  to  their  respective 
destinations. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  269 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  holding  out  my  hand,  "  I  am  greatly  in 
your  debt.  My  name  is  Oliver  Wheatman,  of  the  Hanyards, 
Staffordshire.  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  learning  yours  ?  " 

He  took  my  hand,  looked  at  me  intently,  with  his  grey 
eyes  very  thoughtful  and  steady,  and  then  said  quietly, 
"  Samuel  Nixon,  Bachelor  of  Arts,  sometime  Demy  of 
Magdalen  College,  Oxford." 

"  Commonly  called  '  Swift  Nicks,'  "  I  added,  smiling. 

"  Right  first  time,"  he  cried  gleefully,  and  shot  off  like 
an  arrow  towards  Manchester. 

So  Nance  Lousely  had  not  got  her  pinnerfull  of  guineas 
after  all. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 
DONALD 

I  GOT  my  wound  in  the  early  forenoon  of  December  the 
loth.  About  eight  o'clock  on  the  night  of  the  lyth  I  sat 
down  in  a  deserted  shepherd's  hut  to  the  meal  Donald 
had  got  ready  for  me.  The  week  had  been  in  one  respect  a 
blank,  for  I  had  not  seen  Margaret.  In  every  other  respect 
it  had  been  laborious,  strenuous,  and  exciting,  and  we  had 
just  seen  the  end  of  the  toughest  job  so  far.  We,  meaning 
my  dragoons  and  myself,  were  on  the  top  of  Shap.  Some 
ammunition  wagons  had  broken  down  on  the  upward 
climb,  bunging  up  the  road  at  its  stiffest  bit  and  delaying  us 
for  hours.  His  lordship  and  the  Colonel,  with  the  infantry 
of  the  rear-guard,  were  in  Shap  village  a  mile  or  two  ahead. 
The  Prince  was  still  farther  on,  probably  in  Penrith. 

The  delay  was  dangerous.  Our  army  had  rested  one  full 
day  at  Preston  and  another  at  Lancaster.  Even  at  Preston 
the  Colonel  and  I,  with  my  dragoons,  had  barely  ridden  out 
of  the  town  when  a  strong  body  of  enemy  horse  rode  in  from 
the  east,  sent  by  Wade  to  reinforce  the  Duke.  Our  margin 
of  safety  was  being  cut  down  daily.  We  should  have  to  fight 
before  long,  and  I  was  posted  here,  on  the  top  of  Shap,  to 
see  that  no  surprise  was  sprung  upon  us. 


270  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

The  shieling,  as  Donald  called  it,  was  about  a  hundred 
yards  past  the  highest  point  of  the  road,  where  a  picket  was 
on  the  watch.  Across  the  road  was  a  bit  of  a  dip,  and  here 
my  dragoons  were  making  themselves  comfortable  round  a 
roaring  fire,  fuel  for  which  was  provided  by  the  smashed-up 
carcass  of  a  derelict  wagon.  The  country  was  as  bare  as  a 
bird's  tail,  but  by  a  slice  of  great  good  luck  one  of  them 
had  shot  a  stray  sheep  on  the  way  up,  and  the  air  was  thick 
with  the  smell  of  singed  mutton. 

Here  I  must  say  of  my  dragoons  that  they  were  men  I 
loved  to  command.  After  twelve  days'  work  of  a  sort  to 
knock  up  an  elephant  they  were  as  fresh  as  daisies.  Donald 
they  all  feared,  and  as  Donald,  for  my  behoof,  made  no  bones 
about  telling  them  how  the  laddie's  nief ,  sma'  as  it  lookit,  'ad 
dinged  'im,  Donald,  oot  o'  his  seven  senses,  they  feared  me. 
I  think  they  even  liked  me.  Anyhow,  I  never  had  an  ugly 
look  or  a  glum  word  from  one  of  them.  Some  people  express 
surprise  at  the  splendid  Highland  regiments  now,  thanks 
to  Mr.  Pitt's  politic  genius,  serving  in  our  army.  It  is  no 
surprise  to  me  who  have  commanded  a  body  of  clansmen  for 
a  fortnight  in  the  back-end  of  a  retreat. 

Donald  was  a  very  jewel  of  a  man.  He  was  servant, 
sergeant,  nurse,  and  companion,  and  unbeatable  in  all 
capacities.  My  wound  had  given  me  more  trouble  than  I 
expected,  even  though  Mr.  Bamford  had  told  me  that  one 
of  the  larger  arteries  was  injured.  Once  or  twice  since,  as 
occasion  served,  a  doctor  had  dressed  it,  but  it  was  Donald's 
incessant  care  that  did  most  for  it.  I  still  wore  my  left 
arm  in  a  sling. 

He  had  made  me  a  fire  of  wood  and  turfs  ;  given  me  roast 
mutton,  a  slice  of  cheese  sprinkled  with  oatmeal,  and  good 
bread  to  eat,  and  a  pint  of  milk  laced  with  whisky  to  drink. 
Refinements  which  he  would  have  scouted  for  himself  in  any 
place,  he  had  taken  thought  to  provide  for  me  in  these  wilds — 
a  pewter  plate  and  a  silver  beaker,  both  stolen.  The  only 
furnishing  in  the  hut  was  a  squat  log,  almost  the  size  of  a 
butcher's  block,  which  served  as  a  table.  For  seat,  Donald 
rigged  up  half  the  tail-board  of  the  wagon  across  two  heaps 
of  turfs.  He  completed  his  work  by  producing  a  tallow  candle 
stuck  in  a  dab  of  clay  by  way  of  candlestick. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  271 

Donald  had  left  me  to  my  food  and  gone  over  to  the  camp 
to  get  his  own.  I  made  a  nourishable  meal  and  then  sat 
down  before  the  fire  to  smoke  and  think. 

I  had  not  seen  Margaret  since  Leek,  and  had  not  been 
alone  with  her  since,  her  hand  in  mine,  we  had  crept  out  of  the 
gracious  presence  of  the  dead.  And  I  had  got  into  a  mood  in 
which  I  felt  that  it  was  well  I  did  not  see  her.  Some  day  I 
should  have  to  do  without  her  altogether,  and  this  was  a 
chance  of  learning  how  to  do  it. 

Though  I  had  not  seen  her,  I  had  heard  of  her.  While 
our  army  stayed  the  day  in  Lancaster  I  had  been  watching 
the  road  within  sight  of  the  spires  of  Preston,  wondering  why 
the  Duke's  horse,  after  their  accession  of  strength,  did  not 
come  after  us.  The  Marquess  of  Tiverton  has  since  told  me 
that  the  Duke  had  been  kept  a  day  at  Preston  by  rumours  of 
a  French  landing  on  the  south  coast.  Being  far  behind,  I 
had  ridden  through  Lancaster  without  drawing  rein,  but  in 
the  main  street  a  stranger — one  of  us,  however,  as  his  white 
cockade  showed — had  stepped  up  to  my  saddle  and  handed  me 
a  letter.  It  was  plainly  of  a  woman's  writing,  and  I  burned 
to  think  that  it  was  Margaret's  hand  that  had  penned  the 
direction  to  "  Oliver  Wheatman,  Esquire,  Captain  of  Dragoons 
in  the  army  of  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  Regent."  I 
tore  it  open,  and  found  it  was  from  the  Lady  Ogilvie.  She 
would  understand  and  forgive  if  she  could  ever  know  how 
disappointed  I  was. 

It  had  been  written  that  morning  before  leaving  the  town, 
and  bore  traces  of  hasty  composition.  It  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  SIR, — This  is  to  let  ye  know,  dear  Oliver,  that  I'm  sure 
M.  has  got  a  bee  in  his  bonnet.  I'm  thinking  that  some  one 
we  know  has  tell't  him  she  will  hae  no  trokings  with  him  in 
the  way  he  wants.  I  dinna  ken  for  certain,  mark  ye,  but 
they  were  taegither  last  night,  and  this  morning  he's  not  hang- 
ing round  to  pit  us  in  ye  carriage,  as  he  ordinarily  does,  and 
she  is  pale  and  quiet,  and  says  she  wishes  her  father  was  at 
hand,  and  I  like  it  not,  dear  Oliver.  I  call  you  dear  Oliver 
because  y'are  such  a  guid  laddie,  just  as  I'm  a  guid  girl. 
Davie  tell't  me  how  you  stood  up  and  saluted  him,  and  I 
was  glad  I'd  kissed  ye  ance  upon  a  time,  though  it  was  only 


272  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

to  plague  ye.  Remember  what  I  tell't  ye  about  the?^  High- 
land boddys.  M.  is  like  all  the  rest  of  'em,  and  moreover  the 
Prince  made  ye  his  aide-de-camp,  and  it  was  to  have  been 
him,  tho'  he  didna  mind  at  the  first  because  it  left  him  free 
to  be  courting  his  leddy,  but  noo  he'll  hae  it  rankling  in  his 
heart  like  poison.  And  keep  your  eye  on  that  chiel,  Donald. 
He's  foster-brother  to  M.,  and  wad  stick  his  dirk  in  the  Prince 
himself  if  M.  tell't  him  to.  They're  not  bad  boddys,  but 
that's  how  they  are.  She  says  naething  about  ye,  and  that's 
a  guid  sign,  I'm  thinking.  I  wish  ye  knew  the  French  instead 
of  that  silly  Lattin,  for  then  I  cud  write  ye  a  propper  letter 
wi'  nice  words  in  it,  but  she  says  ye'll  hae  to  learn  Italian 
first  to  suit  her,  but  that's  only  her  daffery.  Excuse  this 
ill- writ  note,  for  the  paper  is  bad  and  I'm  no  sure  o'  my  English 
when  it's  guid. — Your  obedient  servant  and  loving  guid  friend, 

"  ISHBEL  OGILVIE  " 

I  pulled  the  dab  of  mud  close  to  my  elbow  and  read  it 
again.  In  part  it  was  plain  enough.  That  Maclachlan  was 
madly  in  love  with  Margaret  had  become  almost  a  matter  of 
common  gossip.  My  Lord  George  Murray  had  hinted  at  it 
more  than  once,  as  he  had  at  my  displacing  the  young  Chief 
in  the  Prince's  favour.  Maclachlan  was  son  and  heir  to  a 
chief  of  considerable  power  and  reputation.  That  he  should 
fall  in  love  with  Margaret  was  natural,  and  had  she  fallen  in 
love  with  him  I  should  not  have  been  surprised.  Even  after 
the  event,  I  still  say  that  he  was  a  fine,  upstanding  man, 
delightful  to  look  on,  and,  so  far  as  I  knew,  worthy  of  any 
woman,  even  of  such  a  one  as  Margaret.  But  the  heart  is 
master  not  servant,  and  cannot  be  commanded.  She  loved 
him  not  and  there  was  an  end  of  it. 

Next,  Lady  Ogilvie  hinted  at  danger  to  me  from  him. 
Well,  if  he  wanted  a  fight,  a  fight  he  should  have.  There's 
no  Englishman  living  thinks  more  of  Scotsmen  than  I  do, 
but  I  have  never  thought  enough  of  the  best  Scot  breathing 
to  run  away  from  him.  As  for  Donald,  unless  I  was  an  idiot 
and  he  a  better  actor  than  Mr.  Garrick,  he  would  far  sooner 
have  driven  his  dirk  into  himself  than  into  me.  That  matter 
could  rest.  There  would  be  no  fighting  that  night,  and  I 
never  put  on  my  breeches  till  it's  time  to  get  up. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  273 

Where  her  ladyship  was  wrong  was  in  supposing,  as 
clearly  she  did,  that  Margaret's  love  affairs  interested  m& 
otherwise  than  as  being  Margaret's.  I  loved  her,  loved  her 
dearly,  all  the  more  dearly  because  hopelessly.  I  had  no 
qualifications  which  would  enable  me  to  speak  my  love.  At 
my  best  nothing  but  a  poor  yeoman,  I  was  now  not  even  that, 
I  was  a  declared  rebel  in  a  rebellion  that  had  failed.  And 
if  I  had  had  every  qualification  that  rank  and  wealth  could 
give  me,  it  would  still  have  been  the  same.  Between  her  and 
me  was  the  dead  body  of  my  friend  and  the  widowed  heart 
of  my  sister. 

I  was  meditatively  refilling  my  pipe  when  I  heard  Donald's 
voice  without,  raised  in  earnest  explanation. 

"  An'  if  I  didna  think  it  wass  auld  Nick  comin'  for  me  afore 
rna  reetfu'  time,  may  I  never  drink  anither  drap  whisky  as 
lang  as  I  live." 

Some  one  laughed  at  the  explanation,  and  Donald, 
still  explaining,  pushed  open  the  door  and  mado  way  for 
Margaret,  who,  before  I  could  rise,  was  glowering  over  me, 
in  the  delightful  way  she  had,  girlish  pretence  just  dashed 
with  womanly  earnest. 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  you,  nor  father,  nor  Donald,  nor 
anybody  else.  And  you're  not  to  move,  sir  !  " 

"  I'm  sorry,  madam,"  said  I. 

"  You  always  are.  It's  your  favourite  mood.  You  live 
on  sorrow,"  she  said,  pelting  me  with  the  terse,  sharp  sen- 
tences. Then,  for  I  twitched  at  her  telling  me  I  lived  on 
sorrow,  she  melted  at  once,  and  said,  "  Oh,  Oliver,  I'm  so 
sorry.  Why  did  you  not  send  for  me  and  let  me  nurse 
it  better  ?  Surely  that  was  my  right  as  well  as  my 
duty." 

There  was  no  contenting  her  till  she  had  seen  and  dressed 
my  wound.  She  had  brought  lint  and  linen  with  her,  some 
kind  of  balsam  which  nearly  made  me  glad  she  had  not  had 
the  daily  dressing  of  my  arm,  and  even  a  basin  and  a  huge 
bottle  of  clear  spring  water,  which  were  brought  in  from  the 
calash  by  Bimbo,  Lady  Ogilvie's  little  black  coachman. 
The  hut  looked  like  a  surgery,  and  Donald  and  Bimbo  got 
mixed  up  in  the  most  laughable  way  in  dodging  about  to 
wait  on  her. 
18 


274  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Com'  oot  of  it !  "  said  Donald  desperately,  unwinding 
tlie  little  black  out  of  his  plaid  for  the  second  time. 

"  You  one  big  elephant  in  pekkaloats  !  "  he  retorted, 
grinning  bare  his  big  white  teeth.  "  You  tread  on  Bimbo, 
Bimbo  go  squash." 

"  How  does  it  ft.  1  now  ?  "  asked  Margaret,  when  her  task 
was  over. 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  clout  Donald  with  it  in  the  morning," 
I  answered. 

"  Tat's  petter,"  said  he,  grinning  with  delight.  "  I'm 
thinkin'  I'd  suner  be  dinged  wi'  'er  again  than  see  'er  hinging 
there  daein'  naethin'." 

He  took  Bimbo  off  to  the  camp-fire  and  left  us  alone.  We 
wrangled  about  the  seating  accommodation  of  the  hut,  for 
the  cart-tail  was  but  short,  and  I  wanted  her  to  have  it  to 
herself.  She  flouted  the  idea,  and  in  the  end  we  shared  it, 
and  I  minded  its  shortness  no  longer.  She  would  fill  my  pipe 
for  me,  and  held  a  burning  splinter  to  the  bowl  while  I  got 
it  going.  Over  her  doctoring  she  had  been  very  pale  and 
quiet.  Now  she  got  her  colour  back  in  the  light  and  warmth 
of  the  fire,  but  she  quietened  down  again  as  soon  as  I  was 
smoking  in  comfort. 

She  told  me  briefly  that  she  had  stayed  in  Shap  to  see  her 
father.  Lady  Ogilvie  had  insisted  on  her  keeping  the  calash, 
so  that  she  could  come  on  in  comfort  in  the  morning.  From 
her  father  she  had  learned  of  my  wound,  and  had  come  on  at 
once  to  see  for  herself  how  I  was.  She  would  start  back  for 
Shap  shortly,  where  she  was  to  stay  the  night  with  her 
father. 

She  told  me  this  and  then  leaned  forward,  cupping  her 
chin  in  her  hands,  and  went  quiet  again. 

I  was  glad  of  her  silence,  glad  that  she  was  hiding  her 
face  from  me,  for  I  needed  to  pull  myself  together.  That 
something  had  happened  was  clear,  and,  whatever  it  was, 
it  had  struck  home.  In  some  way  of  deep  concernment 
there  was  a  new  Margaret  by  my  side,  but  in  another  way 
it  was  the  old  familiar  Margaret  as  well,  for  she  was  wearing 
mother's  long  grey  domino.  She  had  unclasped  it  so  that  it 
now  hung  loosely  on  her,  and  flung  back  the  hood  so  that  the 
firelight  made  lambent  flickerings  in  her  hair. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  275 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  twelve  days, "she  said  at  last. 

"  No,  madam." 

"  Have  you  been  neglecting  me,  sir  ?  "  Just  a  touch  of 
vigour  was  in  her  voice,  but  she  still  gazed  at  the  fire. 

"  You  are  a  soldier's  daughter,  not  an  alderman's,"  I  said 
quietly,  and  the  retort  brought  her  head  round  with  a  jerk. 

"  And  how  does  that  excuse  your  neglect  ?  " 

"  By  giving  you  the  chance  of  ascertaining  from  your 
father  whether  my  military  duties  have  left  me  any  oppor- 
tunity of  neglecting  you,"  I  answered  steadily.  As  usual 
with  me,  since  I  could  not  woo,  I  would  be  master  where  I 
could.  It  was  a  source  of  mean  delight  to  me. 

"More  logic,"  she  said  briefly,  and  turned  to  the  fire 
again. 

Apparently  she  tested  the  logic  in  her  mind  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  sound.  She  got  up,  threw  some  wood 
on  the  fire,  thrusting  me  back  playfully  when  I  tried  to 
forestall  her,  and  then  said  merrily,  "  What  do  you  think 
dad  said  to-night  ?  " 

"  It  would  take  hours  to  guess,  I  expect,  so  tell  me  at 
once,  since  I  see  it  hipped  you." 

"  It  did,"  she  said  with  playful  emphasis.  "  I  fear  I've 
not  trained  him  up  as  fathers  should  be  trained,  for  he  coolly 
told  me  that  if  I  had  not  had  the  misfortune  to  be  a  girl,  I 
might  perhaps  have  turned  out  as  good  a  lad  as  you." 

"  Misfortune  !  "  I  echoed  almost  angrily. 

"  The  exact  word,"  she  replied. 

"  Misfortune  !  To  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
England,  with  the  world  at  your  feet — he  calls  that  a  mis- 
fortune ?  " 

I  spoke  energetically  as  the  occasion  demanded,  being, 
moreover,  glad  of  an  outlet.  Before  I  had  finished,  however, 
she  was  back  in  her  old  position,  with  her  face  hidden  from 
me  by  her  hands.  She  puzzled  me  more  than  ever,  for,  after 
a  long  silence,  she  burst  out,  "  Not  my  world,  Oliver  !  " 

The  phrase  shot  up  like  a  spout  of  lava  from  some  deep 
centre  of  molten  thought.  I  pitied  and  loved  her,  but  I  was 
helpless.  To  make  a  diversion  I  looked  at  my  watch  and 
luckily  it  was  the  time  when  the  picket  at  the  top  should  be 
changed,  so  I  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  A  splendid 


276  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

blare  of  piping  came  in  from  the  camp-fire  as  I  did  so,  and 
Margaret  tripped  to  the  door  to  listen. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Donald,"  said  I.  "He's  one  of  the  great  masters  of 
the  pipes.  I  believe  in  the  tale  of  Amphion  and  the  walls  of 
Thebes  now,  for  this  afternoon  I  saw  Donald  pipe  some 
broken-down  wagons  out  of  the  road." 

I  went  across  to  see  to  the  change  of  picket,  and  when  I  got 
back  into  the  hut  I  saw  that  the  tension  was  over.  I  relit 
my  pipe,  sat  down  again  at  her  side,  and  started  a  rapid 
series  of  questions  as  to  what  she  had  seen  and  heard  during 
the  retreat.  Try  how  I  would,  nay,  try  as  we  would,  we 
did  not  get  back  to  our  old  footing.  We  were  afraid  of 
silences,  and  skipped  from  topic  to  topic  at  breakneck  speed. 
We  two  who  had  sauntered  together  in  the  sunlight,  now 
stumbled  along  in  a  mist. 

At  last  she  said  she  must  be  going,  and  I  went  out  and 
shouted  to  Donald  to  get  Bimbo  and  the  calash  ready,  and 
four  men  as  an  escort.  When  I  got  back  to  her,  she  arose, 
somewhat  wearily,  and  I  put  the  domino  on  fully  and  fitted 
the  hood  round  her  head. 

"  You  see  I've  gone  back  to  the  domino,  Oliver,"  she 
said. 

"  It's  the  very  thing  for  a  cold  night  and  a  dirty  road," 
I  replied  cheerfully,  stepping  in  front  of  her,  a  couple  of 
paces  off,  to  take  my  last  look  at  her  in  the  light. 

"  I  have  never  met  a  man  who  understands  so  much 
about  women  as  you  do,"  she  said. 

"  Thank  you,  madam,"  I  cried  boisterously,  and  bowed 
so  as  to  avoid  her  eyes.  But  when  I  was  upright  again, 
they  caught  mine  once  more,  and  something  in  them  made 
me  tremble. 

"  Or  so  little,"  she  whispered,  and  she  was  pitifully  white 
and  miserable.  . 

If  it  had  not  been  for  what  I  saw  between  us — there,  on 
the  floor  of  crazed  and  trampled  mud,  I  should  have  flung 
my  arms  around  her.  But  I  could  not  step  over  that. 

"  Ta  carrish  iss  ready,"  cried  Donald  from  the  door-sill. 

I  packed  her  snugly  in  the  calash  and  started  two  dragoons 
ahead.  Bimbo  clucked  to  his  horse  and  was  off.  I  walked 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  277 

a  hundred  yards  by  the  side  of  the  carriage  till  it  was  time 
to  whistle  for  the  other  dragoons  to  start.  Then  I  made 
Bimbo  pull  up. 

The  young  moon  was  battling  with  great  stacks  of  clouds, 
but  just  at  that  moment  won  a  brief  victory,  and  gave  me 
a  clear  view  of  Margaret.  She  put  out  her  hand,  which  she 
had  not  yet  gloved,  and  I  took  it  in  mine,  bowed  my  head 
over  it,  and  kissed  it. 

"  Good  night,  Oliver,"  she  whispered. 

"  Good  night,  Margaret,"  I  replied,  and  whistled  shrilly 
to  hide  my  emotions.  Something  sent  her  away  with  her 
eyes  ashine  and  her  face  glorious  with  a  smile. 

The  dragoons  clattered  by,  and  I  stood  for  a  few  minutes 
staring  downhill.  And  so  little.  Not  my  world.  And  so 
little.  Not  my  world.  The  words  rang  in  my  ears  like  a 
peal  of  bells.  Then,  by  one  of  the  odd  tricks  the  mind 
plays  us,  I  remembered  that  I  had  left  the  Hanyards  for  the 
work's  sake,  and  that  my  love  for  Margaret  could  only  be 
justified  to  myself — the  only  one  who  could  ever  know  it — 
by  my  work.  Over  the  black  top  there,  down  in  the  blacker 
valley,  was  the  enemy,  her  enemy,  nibbling  up  the  space 
between  us  as  a  rabbit  nibbles  up  a  lettuce  leaf.  I  closed 
my  mind  to  the  maddening  chime,  and  started  forthright  to 
visit  my  picket. 

The  road  was  flush  with  the  bare  windswept  summit. 
The  crumpled  ground  was  matted  with  coarse  grass,  almost 
too  poor  for  sheep-feed.  The  camp-fire  still  blazed  ;  near 
it  a  bagpipe  crooned  ;  now  and  again  a  horse  shook  in  its 
harness.  The  moon  whipped  out  for  a  moment,  and  then  it 
was  pitch  dark  again. 

As  I  stepped  it  out  there  was  a  rush  at  me  from  the 
grass,  behind  and  to  my  left.  Down  I  dropped  full  length, 
and  a  man  shot  over  me  and  sprawled  in  the  road,  but  he 
was  quick  and  lithe  as  a  cat,  and  was  up  before  me,  for  my 
slung  arm  disadvantaged  me.  I  could  just  see  his  sword 
poised  for  a  cut  as  he  fairly  pounced  on  me.  I  dived  out- 
ward as  he  jumped,  and  he  missed  me,  but  before  I  could  get 
behind  him  he  was  round  and  at  me  again  like  a  fury.  1 
was  weaponless  and  crippled,  but  if  I  could  once  get  past 
his  sword,  it  would  be  all  over  with  him.  The  pace  vas  s-  • 


278  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

hot,  and  my  mind  was  so  bent  on  the  work,  that  I  did  not 
call  for  aid.  At  last  I  tricked  him,  for  in  jumping  aside  I 
flung  my  hat  hard  in  his  face,  and  in  a  flash  had  my  right 
hand  at  his  throat.  He  jabbed  at  me  with  his  left,  and  I 
twisted  round  to  his  right  side,  pressing  his  sword-arm 
against  his  body,  and  digging  my  fingers  into  his  windpipe. 
I  heard  his  sword  drop,  and  felt  him  feeling  for  a  pistol.  He 
was  as  hard  as  a  nail,  and  I  began  to  dream  that  he  would  get 
me  before  I  had  choked  him. 

Donald  ended  the  matter.  He,  doglike  in  his  fidelity, 
came  striding  down  the  road  after  me.  The  moon  outpaced 
the  clouds  again.  He  saw  us  at  our  death-grips,  and  came 
on  with  a  rush  and  a  yell.  He  drove  his  dirk  into  the  nape 
of  the  man's  neck  and  twisted  the  blade  in  its  ghastly  socket. 
A  sharp,  sickening  click — and  the  man  dropped  out  of  my 
fingers  like  a  stone.  The  moon  went  in  again,  and  hid  the 
evil  thing  from  us. 

"  Pe  she  hurtit  ?  "  asked  Donald  anxiously. 

"  Not  a  scratch  !  "  I  replied. 

"  Tat's  goot !  Carry  'er  up  to  the  fire,"  he  added  to 
three  or  four  men  who  had  run  up  on  hearing  his  yell.  "  She's 
English  and,  maybe,  she  sail  hae  fine  pickins  on  'er." 

He  stooped  down,  careless  of  a  dead  man  as  of  a  dead 
buck,  and  stropped  his  dirk  clean  and  dry  on  the  man's 
breeches.  Then  the  men,  equally  indifferent,  picked  up  the 
body  and  started  off. 

"  D'ye  ken  wha  the  chiel  is  ?  "  asked  Donald,  as  we  walked 
after  them. 

"  A  certain  sergeant  of  dragoons,  or  one  of  his  men,"  I 
answered. 

"  He  winna  fash  ye  ony  more,"  said  he.  "  Tat's  a  fine 
way  of  mine,  when  I  can  get  behint  a  mon.  I've  killt  mony 
a  stot  like  it,  shoost  t'  keep  in  the  way  of  it."  And  he 
stabbed  the  air,  twisted  his  wrist,  and  clicked  delightedly. 

The  men  dumped  the  body  near  the  fire.  One  of  them 
stooped  down  and  was  for  putting  his  hand  in  the  man's 
pocket,  but  drew  it  back  as  if  he  had  thrust  it  by  mischance 
into  the  flames. 

Then  I  knew. 

I  have  heard  a  mare  squeal  in  a  burning  stable,  but  I 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  279 

have  never  heard  agony  in  sound  as  I  heard  it  there,  on  the 
top  of  Shap,  when  Donald  flung  himself  across  the  dead  body 
of  his  chief  and  foster-brother. 

There  is  one  tender  memory  of  this  distressing  scene. 
Neither  by  look,  word,  nor  tone  did  Donald  attach  blame  or 
responsibility  to  me.  He  recovered  himself  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  stood  up,  and  gave  a  brief  command  in  Gaelic. 
Four  awe-struck  men  spread  a  plaid  on  the  ground,  placed 
the  dead  body  on  it,  and  carried  it  into  the  hut.  Donald, 
gravely  silent,  took  the  pipes  from  the  man  who  had  been 
playing,  and  followed  them.  I  bared  my  head  and  went 
after  him  miserably. 

Madachlan's  body  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  hut.  The  eyes 
were  wide  open,  but  on  his  fine  composed  face  there  was  no 
trace  of  the  agony  and  passion  in  which  he  had  gone  before 
his  God.  It  was  as  if,  in  that  last  terrible  second,  some  vision 
of  beauty  had  swept  his  soul  dean.  I  knelt  down  and 
reverently  closed  the  staring  eyes. 

"  Donald,"  said  I,  when  I  arose,  "  I  would  to  God  that 
you  had  killed  me  instead." 

"  It's  weird,"  said  he  solemnly,  "  and  weird  mun  hae 
way." 

I  looked  at  him  closely.  That  he  was  struck  to  the  heart 
was  plain  to  see,  but,  the  first  uprush  of  grief  over,  he  had 
become  sober,  steadfast,  almost  business-like,  as  if  he  had 
something  great  in  hand  to  do,  and  would  be  doing  it. 

He  took  the  candle,  now  only  the  length  of  my  ring- 
finger,  and  stuck  it  on  the  narrow  window-ledge.  Again  he 
spoke  to  the  men  in  Gaelic,  and  they  moved  out  of  the  hut 
Turning  to  me,  he  said,  "  Com  in  when  ta  licht  gaes  oot !  " 

He  had  the  right  to  be  alone  with  his  dead.  I  wrung  his 
hand  and  left  him.  When  I  looked  back  from  the  doorway, 
he  was  filling  his  bag  with  wind,  but  stopped  to  say,  "  Weird 
mun  hae  way."  And  as  he  said  it  he  smiled. 

I  crossed  the  road  to  the  edge  of  the  dip.  More  wood  had 
been  piled  on  the  fire,  which  now  blazed  cheerfully.  Most 
of  the  men  lay  asleep  in  their  plaids,  but  a  few  stood  guard 
over  the  horses,  and  the  men  who  had  carried  the  body  into 
the  hut  were  squatting  on  the  grass  by  the  roadside.  I  took 
my  stand  near  them,  and  looked  and  listened. 


28o  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

The  terrible  similarity  of  Donald's  case  to  mine  appalled 
me.  Each  of  us,  in  saving  another,  had  struck  down  in  the 
darkness  a  man  near  and  dear  to  him.  Two  good  men  and 
true  had  gone  when  the  lust  of  life  is  sweetest  and  the  will 
to  live  strongest.  I,  who  three  weeks  ago  had  never  seen 
human  life  taken,  had  taken  it,  and  seen  it  taken,  as  if  men 
were  of  no  more  account  than  cattle.  Between  the  house- 
place  of  the  Hanyards  and  the  top  of  Shap,  Death  had  become 
my  familiar. 

For  Maclachlan  I' had  nothing  but  pity.  He  had  thought 
that  I  stood  between  him  and  Margaret.  Clearly  he  had 
learned  of  her  coming  back  to  me,  and  the  thought  had 
maddened  him.  He  had  disguised  himself  as  an  English- 
man and  come  after  me,  and  this  was  the  end  of  it. 

These  were  my  thoughts  as  I  watched  the  flickering  flame 
dropping  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  window-ledge,  and  listened 
to  the  pipes.  Donald  was  inspired.  He  and  the  pipes  were 
one.  In  his  hands  they  became  a  living  thing.  What  he 
felt,  they  felt.  They  wept  as  he  wept,  they  gloried  as  he 
gloried,  they  triumphed  as  he  triumphed. 

He  began  with  a  murmur  of  grief  that  grew  into  a  wail, 
became  a  passionate  tempest,  and  died  into  a  prolonged  sob. 
Then  he  changed  his  note  as  memory  wandered  backward. 
The  music  became  tenderly  reminiscent,  subduedly  cheerful. 
They  were  again  boys  together  at  their  play,  youthful  hunt- 
ers swinging  over  the  mountains  after  the  red  deer  ;  young 
men  with  the  maidens  ;  warriors  on  their  first  foray.  The 
threads  of  life  ran  in  and  out  through  the  pattern  of  sounds 
he  was  weaving,  and  the  older  days  of  fighting  and  victories 
followed  as  I  listened.  There  was  hurrying,  marching, 
charging ;  the  groan  of  defeat ;  the  mad  slogan  of  final 
victory. 

"  He's  fechtin'  the  Macleans  noo,"  cried  out  one  of  the 
men,  who  had  some  English,  and  the  others  chattered 
vigorously  for  a  minute  in  their  own  Gaelic. 

The  candle  was  now  guttering  on  the  window-ledge. 
These  glories  over,  Donald  came  hard  up  against  the  end  of 
them  all — the  Chief  dead  at  his  feet,  slain  by  his  own  hand. 
For  a  time  he  faltered,  playing  only  in  little,  melancholy 
snatches.  Then  he  got  surer,  and  the  music  began  to  come 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  281 

in  blasts.  He  was  seeing  his  way,  learning  what  it  all  meant 
to  him  and  the  Maclachlans.  Weird  mun  hae  way.  Destiny 
must  work  itself  out.  We  children  of  a  day  are  helpless 
before  it. 

The  flame  fell  to  a  golden  bead  as  the  music  grew  in 
strength  and  purpose.  There  was  a  burst  of  light,  a  peal 
of  triumph,  and  the  music  and  the  flame  went  out  together. 

Across  the  road  I  raced,  threw  open  the  door,  and  rushed 
in.  Everything  was  dark  and  still. 

"  Donald  !  "  I  called  passionately. 

There  was  no  reply.  I  crept  on  tip-toe  to  the  fire  and 
kicked  the  embers  into  a  flame. 

Donald  was  lying  dead  across  the  dead  body  of  his  Chief, 
his  dirk  buried  to  the  hilt  in  his  own  heart. 

At  daybreak  we  buried  them  side  by  side  in  one  grave 
on  the  top  of  Shap,  their  feet  pointing  northward  to  their 
own  mountains.  When  the  last  clod  had  been  replaced, 
and  a  great  boulder  reverently  carried  up  to  mark  the  spot, 
I  turned,  covered  my  head,  and  prepared  to  go,  but  the 
men  stood  on.  I  looked  back.  They  were  loath  to  go. 
Something  that  should  be  done,  had  been  left  undone. 

I  divined  what  they  had  in  mind,  turned  back,  bared  my 
head  as  they  uncovered,  and  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer 
aloud. 

I  am  thankful  to  this  day  to  those  men  whom  fools  and 
bigots  call  savages.  They  taught  me  to  pray  again. 

"  Man  Captain,"  said  the  one  who  had  English,  as  we 
walked  away  in  a  body,  "  ye  wad  mak'  a  gran'  meenister." 

I  could  not  withhold  a  smile,  but  before  I  could  reply 
there  was  a  scattered  rattle  of  shots  from  the  dip.  Looking 
around,  I  saw  a  body  of  enemy  horse  on  the  lower  hill  across 
the  valley  to  my  left. 

We  were  overtaken.    We  should  have  to  fight. 


282  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 


ON   the   tenth  day  of  my  captivity,  hope  glimmered 
for  the  first  time.     When  a  man  has  been  penned  up 
in   a   dull   room    for   ten  days,  with  half-a-hundred- 
weight  of  rusty  iron  shackling  his  wrists  and  ankles,  with 
poor  food,  and  little  of  it  at  that,  to  eat,  he  can  extract  com- 
fort out  of  a  trifle. 

In  my  case  the  trifle  was  a  smile,  her  first  smile  in  ten 
days.  So  far  she  had  been  as  sulky  as  she  was  shapeless, 
bringing  me  my  poor  meals  either  without  saying  a  word  or, 
at  best,  snapping  me  up  and  saying  that  I  got  far  better 
treatment  than  a  rebel  deserved. 

She  never  told  me  her  name,  and  I  never  learned  it  from 
any  other  source,  so  '  she  '  she  must  remain  for  me  and  my 
tale.  She  was  perhaps  thirty,  perhaps  five  feet  high,  the 
shape  of  a  black  pudding,  with  stony,  rather  than  ugly, 
features,  and  cruel,  cat-like  eyes.  I  hated  her  handsomely 
till  she  smiled  at  me. 

She  was,  I  suppose,  my  jailer's  daughter,  or  servant,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  I  never  knew,  and  my  ignorance  does 
not  matter.  She  brought  me  my  food,  spake  or  spake  not, 
according  to  the  degree  of  vileness  in  her  prevailing  humour, 
and  went  off,  leaving  me  to  my  thoughts  and  my  painful 
shamblings  round  my  prison-chamber. 

My  ignorance  was  limitless.  I  was  a  prisoner,  and  my 
prison  was  a  room  in  a  sizable  farm-house  with  thick  stone 
walls.  Where  the  house  was  I  had  no  idea  other  than  that  it 
could  not  be  far  from  the  place  where  I  was  taken,  which, 
again,  could  not  be  far  from  the  town  of  Penrith.  There 
was  one  window  in  my  cell,  the  sill  of  which  was  as  high 
from  the  ground  as  my  chin  when  standing  upright.  But  I 
never  stood  upright,  being  jammed  into  a  cross  made  of  good, 
solid  iron,  foul  with  rust,  and  having  bracelets  at  the  tips  for 
my  ankles  and  wrists.  It  kept  me  a  foot  short  of  my  full 
stretch.  I  could  get  my  eye  to  the  edge  of  the  window  and 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  283 

no  farther,  and  then  I  saw  much  sky  and  a  little  desolate 
moorland  running  up  into  a  gauntly-wooded  hill  country. 

I  spent  my  waking  hours  thinking  of  Margaret  and  the 
others  dreaming  of  her.  Now  was  my  chance  to  learn  to  do 
without  her  altogether.  It  would  not  be  for  long.  I  was  in 
the  Duke's  clutches,  and  he  would  not  let  me  go  till  my  head 
rolled  off  my  shoulders.  Had  I  been  free  and  with  her,  we 
should  have  been  farther  apart  than  before — by  the  width 
of  Donald's  grave.  But  here,  parted  for  ever,  with  the  block 
or  the  gallows  just  ahead  of  me,  there  was  no  bar  to  my 
lonely  love.  Time  and  time  again  she  was  so  near  to  me,  so 
vividly  present  to  my  imagination,  that  I  stretched  out  my 
arms  to  grasp  her.  The  shackles  clanked,  and  I  cursed 
myself  for  a  fool,  but  I  never  cured  myself  of  the  habit. 

Because  this  is  the  dreariest  time  of  my  life,  I  have 
plumped  right  into  the  middle  of  it  to  get  it  over.  And,  in- 
deed, there  is  little  worth  the  telling  between  the  top  of  Shap 
and  her  smile.  I  was  in  jail  because  I  was  no  soldier.  That, 
apparently,  should  go  without  saying,  and  if  I  had  come  to 
grief  over  some  piece  of  important  soldier-craft,  no  one  would 
have  been  surprised  and  I  should  not  have  been  to  blame.  It 
galls  me,  however,  to  have  to  confess  that  I  was  very  pro- 
perly caught,  jailed,  and  ironed  for  not  knowing  what  a 
dragoon  was.  A  man  ought  to  know  that  after  being  captain 
of  a  troop  of  the  best  for  a  fortnight,  but  I  didn't.  Being  all 
for  logic,  the  least  useful  thing  in  life,  I  had  arrived  at  the  con- 
clusion that  a  soldier  on  horseback  is  a  horse-soldier.  So  he 
is,  except  when  he's  a  dragoon,  as  I  found  to  my  cost.  If 
the  bold  Turnus  or  Mr.  Pink-of-Propriety  JEne&s  had  hit 
upon  the  dragoon  idea,  I  should  have  known  all  about  it, 
because  it  would  have  been  in  Virgil.  Even  the  Master  has 
his  deficiencies. 

My  Lord  George  Murray  elected  to  fight  at  Clifton,  a 
defendable  place  between  Shap  and  Penrith.  Just  south  of 
the  bridge  the  road  ran  off  the  moor  into  the  outskirts  of  the 
village,  with  a  stone  wall  on  one  side  and  a  high  edge  on  the 
other.  The  enclosures  on  either  side  were  packed  with  clans- 
men, and  our  wings  stretched  beyond  on  to  the  moor,  here 
dissected  into  poor  fields  by  straggling  hedges. 

The  Colonel,  the  happiest  man  in  England  that  day,  had 


284  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

posted  me  across  the  road,  right  out  on  the  moor,  ready  to 
gallop  back  at  once  with  news  of  the  enemy's  approach.  It 
was  now  quite  dark,  except  when  the  moon  rode  free  of  the 
dense  blotches  of  clouds  that  filled  the  sky.  In  one  such 
glimpse  of  light,  I  caught  sight  of  several  bodies  of  horse  on 
the  moor  to  the  east  of  the  road.  The  regiment  nearest  to 
me  wheeled  to  the  left,  and  trotted  obliquely  across  the  road. 
Its  direction  made  its  purpose  clear.  It  was  feeling  its  way 
across  our  front  to  our  flank  on  the  west  of  the  village.  I 
rode  back  at  once  to  report. 

"  Good  lad  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  offering  me  his  snuff-box. 
"  It's  just  what  we  want  'em  to  do.  Go  where  there's  a 
bellyful  for  you !  Fine  soldiering  that !  The  fool  duke 
ought  to  pound  us  out  into  the  open  with  his  guns.  Hope 
5'ou'll  enjoy  your  first  fight,  Oliver !  It's  a  glorious  game. 
Pity  of  it  is  the  counters  are  so  costly.  Good  luck,  my  dear 
lad  !  " 

I  went  back  to  my  men  whom  I  had  left  in  the  covered 
way  between  the  wall  and  the  hedge.  It  being  clear  that  the 
exact  whereabouts  of  the  regiment  I  had  particularly  ob- 
served was  of  great  consequence,  I  rode  out  again  with  a 
couple  of  men,  at  the  request  of  one  of  the  chiefs,  to  see  if  I 
could  make  out  what  was  happening.  There  was  no  trace  of 
it.  It  should  by  now  have  been  visible  on  my  right,  the 
moon  being  out  again,  but  there  was  not  a  single  trace  of  it. 
I  could  see  the  line  of  one  hedge  and  beyond  that  another. 
The  other  regiments  had  not  advanced  and  this  one  had  dis- 
appeared. 

Perplexed,  I  halted  my  men,  pulled  the  sorrel's  head 
round  and  cantered  slowly  towards  the  nearer  hedge.  Then 
I  learned  that  dragoons  are  horse-soldiers  who  fight  on  foot, 
behind  hedges  for  choice.  Half  a  dozen  carbines  rang  out, 
the  sorrel  rolled  over,  and  though  I  escaped  the  bullets  and 
jumped  clear  of  my  horse,  I  was  pounced  on  by  a  body  of 
men  and  pulled  ignobly  through  the  hedge.  I  did  every- 
thing doable,  but  they  swarmed  over  me  like  ants,  bore  me 
down  by  weight  of  numbers,  and  sat  on  me. 

"  It's  him  right  enough,"  I  heard  one  of  them  say.  "  Fetch 
the  sergeant  !  There's  a  bit  of  fat  in  this,  lads  !  " 

A  minute  later,  I  was  hauled  on  to  my  feet.     A  seared 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  285 

face,  with  a  dab-of-putty  nose  on  it,  leered  delightedly  into 
mine. 

"  Got  you,  by  G —  !  "  he  said. 

I  had  been  captured  by  Brocton's  dragoons.  Now  we 
should  come  to  points. 

Without  another  word  to  me,  and  after  a  savage  in- 
junction to  the  men  to  see  I  did  not  escape  on  peril  of  their 
lives,  he  went  off  and  fetched  his  lordship.  They  came 
running  back  together  as  if  the  greatest  event  imaginable  had 
happened. 

"  Ha  !  Master  Wheatman,"  cried  my  lord  very  happily, 
"  this  is  indeed  a  sight  for  sore  eyes." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  I,  "  your  lordship's  were  pretty  bad 
the  last  time  I  saw  them." 

He  made  no  retort,  being  indeed  too  excited  to  notice 
pin-pricks,  but  ordered  the  sergeant  to  take  me  to  the  rear 
under  a  strong  guard.  "  Make  sure  of  him !  "  he  cried,  and 
added  in  a  lower  tone,  as  I  moved  off  under  the  combined  pull 
and  push  of  my  captors,  "  Make  sure  of  it."  He  then  went 
off  to  his  own  place  in  the  line. 

The  sergeant  did  not  come  with  us,  and  I  had  been  tugged 
nearly  to  the  second  hedge  before  he  overtook  us.  To  my 
astonishment  he  was  carrying  my  saddle  on  his  head,  where, 
in  the  dim  light,  it  looked  like  a  gigantic  bonnet.  He  swore 
at  the  men  for  loitering,  and  on  we  went  to  the  second  hedge. 
We  struck  it  at  a  point  where  there  was  neither  gate  nor  gap, 
but  the  dragoons  bashed  it  down  with  their  carbines  and 
trampled  it  down  with  their  boots,  and  so  made  a  way. 

Two  of  the  men  were  through,  and  I  was  being  hauled 
through,  when  there  was  a  spattering  of  shots  from  behind. 
Over  the  noise  a  stentorian  voice  called  out  "  Claymores  !  " 
It  was  the  Highland  warcry,  and,  with  reverberating  yells, 
the  clansmen  poured  out  of  the  nearer  enclosure  to  attack  the 
dragoons  lining  the  hedge. 

The  sergeant  drew  his  sword,  and,  as  we  raced  on  again, 
struck  viciously  with  the  flat  of  it  at  his  men  to  make  them 
run  faster.  A  queer  figure  he  cut  in  the  moonlight  as  he 
raced  along,  swearing  and  slashing,  with  the  skirts  of  the 
saddle  flapping  against  his  lean  ribs.  At  last  we  got  out 
on  a  poor  road  lined  with  trees  and  turned  south  alon^  ii . 


286  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

There  was  urgent  need  for  him  to  haste  now,  for  Brocton's 
dragoons  had  been  cut  out  of  their  cover  and  were  being 
pushed  back  to  the  hedge  we  had  just  left.  The  sergeant 
halted  a  moment  to  take  stock  of  the  situation,  and  then  we 
hurried  on  again.  Every  time  he  struck  a  man  for  lazy 
running,  the  man  in  his  turn  paid  me  with  punch  or  kick. 
After  a  mile  or  so,  the  avenue  made  an  abrupt  turn  to  the 
east  and  brought  us  out  on  the  main  road  in  the  rear  of  the 
Duke's  army. 

The  moon  showed  us  a  little  cottage,  standing  off  from  the 
road  in  a  poor  plot  of  ground.  The  sergeant  led  the  way  up 
to  it,  turned  the  cottager  and  his  family  out  of  it  into  a  shed, 
and  set  two  men  without  as  sentries.  He  then  made  the 
others  strip  me  to  the  skin  and  examined  every  shred  of 
clothing,  ripping  out  the  linings  and  even  cutting  my  boots 
to  pieces.  Finding  nothing,  he  flung  me  the  rags  to  put  on 
again,  and  then  cut  the  saddle  to  pieces  and  searched  that. 
I  knew  now  why  William  had  so  nearly  lost  his  vail  and 
Donald  had  been  obliged  to  steal  me  another  saddle.  The 
sergeant  wanted  the  letter  and  papers  I  had  taken  from 
him  at  the  "  Ring  of  Bells."  He  was  so  keen  that  he  omitted 
to  pouch  any  of  my  belongings,  and  I  retained  my  money, 
Donald's  watch,  and  the  priceless  strip  of  bloodstained  linen. 
My  tuck  and  pistols  were  naturally  taken  from  me  on  my 
capture. 

"  Any  luck  ?  "  I  asked  quizzingly,  when  he  at  last  gave 
over  the  search. 

Too  furious  or  too  cautious  to  reply,  he  brutally  kicked  a 
dragoon  whom  he  caught  smiling. 

After  a  miserable  drag  of  some  two  hours,  a  fresh  dragoon 
came  with  a  message,  whereon  the  sergeant  conducted  me  to 
the  presence  of  the  Duke,  who  was  quartered  in  a  large  house 
in  the  village.  The  Lord  Brocton,  the  Lord  Mark  Kerr,  and 
other  officers  were  with  him,  and  also  several  ladies  who  would 
have  been  more  at  home  in  Vauxhall.  For  a  minute  or  two 
I  was  unheeded,  and  the  sergeant  could  hardly  keep  himself 
sufficiently  stiff  and  awkward.  His  Grace  was  in  the  sourest 
of  humours  for,  as  the  talk  showed,  he  had  been  beaten. 
The  claymores  had  taken  the  conceit  out  of  him  finely.  He 
finished  the  subject  with  a  string  of  oaths  and  then  made  an 


THE  YEOMAN -AD  VENTURER  287 

unprintable  inquiry  of  Brocton  concerning  me.  The  ladies 
tittered  profusely,  and  the  most  powdery  one  vowed  that 
His  Grace  was  a  great  wag.  In  further  proof  of  this  he 
snatched  a  feather  near  a  yard  long  out  of  her  pompom,  and 
fanned  himself  with  it  while  he  examined  me. 

This  ducal  waggishness  gave  me  time  to  observe  that  the 
sergeant's  uneasiness  was  icy  coldness  in  comparison  with 
his  lordship's.  He  was  uncertain  of  speech ;  his  face  was 
the  colour  of  pea-soup ;  he  looked  anxiously,  almost 
affrightedly,  at  me.  He  grew  plainly  more  comfortable  as 
the  Duke  failed  to  get  any  information  out  of  me  beyond  the 
fact  that  the  weather  was  cold.  Finally,  when  the  sergeant 
was  ordered  to  keep  me  at  his  peril  till  such  time  as  I  could 
be  lodged  in  Carlisle  jail,  Brocton  greedily  tossed  off  a  bumper 
of  wine  and  laughed  aloud  at  some  vulgar  sally  from  a  lady 
in  a  green  paduasoy.  On  leaving  I  bowed  to  the  Duke.  He 
was  a  vigorous,  able  man  with  the  manners  and  morals  of  a 
bull. 

Brocton  followed  the  sergeant  out.  There  was  a  con- 
sultation between  them  of  which  I  heard  nothing,  but  the 
result  was  that  the  sergeant  picked  up  a  man  as  guide  who 
was  waiting  at  the  front  door,  obviously  for  the  purpose,  and 
took  me  through  and  beyond  the  village  to  a  house  on  the 
roadside.  The  place  was  of  fair  size,  built  of  rough  slabs 
of  stone,  and  evidently  a  farm-house.  The  owner  was  a 
lumpish,  ungainly  fellow,  astonishingly  bow-legged.  He 
had  a  little  yapping  dog,  which  jumped  backwards  and  for- 
wards between  his  knees  like  a  trick-dog  through  a  hoop. 

Preparations  had  been  made  for  my  coming,  "by  his 
lordship,"  as  the  fanner  blabbed  out.  I  was  taken  upstairs 
to  a  back  room,  ironed,  in  the  way  I  have  described,  by  the 
parish  constable,  who  had  been  prayed  in  aid  for  the  job,  and 
locked  in  in  the  dark.  I  heard  a  sentry  posted  without  the 
door  and  another  beneath  the  window.  It  was  some  con- 
solation, and  I  needed  all  I  could  get,  to  know  I  was  so  prized. 
There  was  a  rough  bed  in  the  room.  I  tumbled  on  it,  won- 
dered for  a  few  minutes  what  Margaret  would  be  thinking  of 
it  all,  and  then  went  to  sleep. 

Next  morning  I  made  her  acquaintance  to  this  extent 
that  she  brought  me  a  jug  of  thin  ale,  a  lump  of  horse-bread. 


288  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

and  a  slab  of  cheese.  Her  looks  froze  my  affability,  but  she 
does  not  become  important  till  she  smiled,  and  I  need  say  no 
more  about  her  at  present. 

I  saw  no  other  person  till  nightfall  of  the  third  day,  when 
the  door  opened  and  the  little  dog  hopped  through  his  accus- 
tomed gap  into  the  room,  and  was  followed  by  his  master 
carrying  a  lighted  tallow  candle  in  a  rusty  iron  candlestick. 
This  imported  something  unusual,  as  I  was  not  allowed  a 
light,  and  it  turned  out  to  be  a  visit  from  my  Lord  Brocton. 
He  ordered  the  sentry  to  follow  the  farmer  downstairs,  and 
examined  the  door  carefully  to  see  if  it  was  closed  thoroughly. 
I  sat  on  the -edge  of  the  bed  and  hummed  a  brisk  air  with  a 
fine  pretence  of  indifference. 

He  sat  down  on  the  one  chair  there  was,  placed  his  hat  on 
the  table,  and  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  in  this  place  and 
condition,  Mr.  Wheatman." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I. 

"  Of  course  you  know  there's  only  one  end  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  and  hummed  a  stave  of  "  Lillibullero." 

He  leaned  forward  and  said  impressively,  "  The  gibbet, 
Mr.  Wheatman  !  " 

"  Draughty  places !  "  said  I,  smiling,  as  I  thought  of 
Nance  Lousely.  "  I  can  feel  the  wind  whistling  through  my 
bones." 

"  You  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,  sir.  It  does  credit,  I 
must  say,  to  your  nerves." 

"  You  are  pleased  to  be  sympathetic,  my  lord,"  I  riposted, 
"  whereby  you  do  no  credit  to  my  common  sense." 

He  took  short  breaths  and  then  reflected  a  minute  or  two, 
during  which  I  clinked  a  soft  tattoo  with  my  iron  wristlets, 
and  eyed  him  joyously.  He  was  there — a  free  lordling,  I 
was  here — &  chained  rebel,  but  I  had  him  set. 

"  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  to  you,  Mr.  Wheatman,"  he 
said  at  length. 

"  I  am  indeed  honoured,  but  be  careful,  my  lord !  It's 
not  in  the  least  likely,  I  fear,  to  be  a  proposal  which  you 
would  like  the  sentry  beneath  the  window  to  overhear." 

"  You  are  plain  and  blunt,"  he  said,  leaning  forward 
and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  "  and  I  will  be  the  same.  Return 
me  all  the  papers  you  took  from  my  sergeant  at  the  '  Ring  of 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  289 

Bells,'  and  I  will  see  that  you  escape  and  get  clear  of  the 
country." 

"  The  different  personal  ends  for  which  you  are  anxious 
to  turn  traitor  seem  innumerable,  my  lord  !  " 

He  met  the  taunt  as  if  it  had  been  a  flip  with  a  straw, 
and  only  said,  "  Is  it  a  bargain  ?  " 

"  It  is  not,"  I  replied  emphatically. 

If  his  life  rather  than  his  lands  had  depended  on  the 
recovery  of  the  letter  he  could  not  have  been  more  eager. 
For  a  long  time  he  pleaded  and  wrestled  with  me ;  arguing, 
bullying,  imploring,  threatening,  turn  and  turn  about,  but 
to  no  result.  I  would  not  go  back  on  my  casual  word  to 
Master  Freake.  The  letter  was  important  to  him,  and  he 
would  save  Margaret  and  the  Colonel,  and  me  too,  when 
the  inevitable  hour  of  need  should  come  at  last.  Money 
was  power,  and  lands  were  more  than  money.  Acres  meant 
votes,  and  with  votes  at  your  command  you  had  ministers 
at  your  beck.  I  was  sure  of  Master  Freake.  Why  bother 
about  my  lord  Brocton  ? 

At  last  he  played  his  last  card.  "  You  shall  have  the 
Upper  Hanyards  back  again,  Master  Wheatman,"  he 
quavered. 

The  rascal  earl,  his  father,  had  juggled  more  than  a 
thousand  acres  of  the  Hanyards  away  from  my  father  by 
some  musty  process  of  law  and  a  venal  bench.  The  reference 
angered  me,  and  I  cried  loudly,  "  You  shall  not  have  it  back 
at  any  price  !  " 

He  looked  at  the  window,  and  paled  as  he  thought  of  the 
sentinel  ears  without.  Then  he  went  off,  vomiting  curses. 

That  day  week,  she  brought  me  a  shepherd's  pie  for 
dinner,  very  well  made  too,  and  a  mug  of  ale  not  wholly 
unworthy  of  the  name.  She  put  them  down,  looked  at  me 
in  a  measure  womanly,  and  smiled.  It  was  a  root  of  promise 
and  fruit  would  follow.  Any  change  would  be  welcome. 
I  was  ragged,  dirty,  galled,  cramped,  and  bearded  with  a 
red  stubble.  She  called  me  '  Carrots  '  in  derision. 

I  was  right.  At  evening  she  brought  me  up  a  dish  of 
tea,  and  when  I  lifted  it  off  the  table  to  take  a  drink  of  it, 
there  was  beneath  it  a  paper  folded  letter-fashion. 

I  steadied  myself,   drank  my  tea  with  only  moderate 

19 


290  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

haste,  and  then  cautiously  palmed  my  treasure  and  walked 
to  the  window.  Standing  with  my  back  to  the  door,  so 
that  the  sentry,  who  was  given  to  popping  his  head  in  to 
have  a  look  at  me,  could  not  catch  me  unawares,  I  opened 
the  paper.  It  was  a  letter.  It  was  written  by  a  woman. 
The  woman  was  Margaret. 

"  You  will  be  taken  to-morrow  to  Carlisle.  On  the 
way  friends  will  rescue  you  and  bring  you  to  me.  Fear 
nothing,  say  nothing,  and  all  will  be  well.  Till  to-morrow, 
dear  Oliver.  Destroy  this.  MARG.  W." 

It  went  hard  against  the  grain  to  destroy  this  precious 
missive.  I  hid  in  the  corner,  and  kissed  it  ravenously  a 
hundred  times.  How  straight  and  true  the  pen  had  ploughed 
its  way  across  the  paper  !  It  was  just  such  writing  as  I 
had  expected  of  her,  the  resolute  escription  of  her  sweet, 
resolute  self.  Nor  was  the  problem  of  destroying  it  easy 
to  solve,  since  I  had  no  fire,  and  there  was  no  sure  hiding- 
place  accessible  to  my  manacled  hands.  I  mastered  the 
difficulty  heroically  by  eating  the  letter  with  my  bread 
and  butter. 

It  was  even  harder  to  pretend  to  be  dull  and  sluggish 
with  such  a  whirl  of  happy  thoughts  in  my  mind.  I  was 
her  "  dear  Oliver,"  dear  enough  to  make  her  risk  her  own 
life  in  saving  mine.  That  she  would  plan  wisely  and  execute 
swiftly,  there  was  no  shadow  of  doubt.  This  time  to- 
morrow we  should  be  together  again. 

The  night  dragged  through  at  last,  and  the  first  glimmer 
of  dawn  found  me  alert  and  hopeful.  She  brought  my  usual 
breakfast  at  the  usual  time,  and  smiled  again,  but  put  her 
finger  on  her  lips  to  warn  me  to  be  silent  and  careful. 

She  went  downstairs,  and  left  to  myself  again,  I  grew 
furious  to  think  that  Margaret  would  see  me  so,  a  regular 
wild  man  of  the  woods — quantum  mutatus  ab  illo  Hectare. 
But  my  ravings  ceased  at  the  sound  of  preparations  without. 
My  room  was  at  the  back  of  the  house,  but  I  heard  the 
noise  of  wheels,  and  hoof-beats,  and  the  harsh  swearing  of 
the  sergeant.  By  and  by  he  came  noisily  upstairs,  burst 
into  my  room,  and  curtly  ordered  me  downstairs. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  291 

Blithely  I  followed  him.  Try  how  I  would  I  could  not 
hide  my  joy,  and,  seeing  that  he  noted  it,  I  said  in  explana- 
tion, "  Anything  for  a  change,  sergeant !  " 

"  You'll  wish  yourself  back  here  soon  enough,  blast 
ye  !  "  he  growled.  "  We'll  stretch  your  neck  for  you  till 
your  eyes  drop  out,  you  swine  !  " 

"  You  dear,  good,  Christian  soul !  "  I  simpered. 

For  answer,  he  kicked  me  savagely,  and  then  bundled 
me  downstairs,  out  of  the  house,  and  into  the  road.  Here 
a  two-horsed  coach  was  in  waiting,  with  two  dragoons  and 
a  corporal  in  front  and  two  more  behind.  One  of  the  rear 
men  was  holding  a  horse,  and  to  my  annoyance  the  sergeant 
got  into  the  coach  after  me,  bawled  out  a  command,  and 
off  our  party  started. 

I  stumbled  into  a  corner  and  sat  huddled  up,  straining 
my  eyes  ahead  to  catch  what  was  to  come.  Margaret's 
information  was  clearly  correct.  We  took  the  road  north, 
passed  through  Penrith  without  a  halt,  and  out  again,  still 
on  the  turnpike,  proof  that  Carlisle  was  to  be  our  destination. 
The  city  was  obviously  now  in  the  Duke's  power. 

Mile  after  mile  we  covered  apace,  and  at  every  curve  and 
cross-road  I  peered  ahead  and  around  with  my  heart  in  my 
mouth.  One  point  in  my  favour  was  the  desolate  nature 
of  the  country,  exactly  fitted  for  such  a  stratagem  as  was 
in  hand.  On  the  right  the  gloomy  sky  was  blotted  out  by 
jagged  masses  of  gloomier  hills.  On  the  left  the  country 
varied  between  flat  and  upland,  but  was  hardly  less  uninviting. 

"  Where  d'ye  think  y're  going  ?  "  asked  the  sergeant, 
joggling  me  with  his  spurred  heel  to  make  me  look  at  him. 

"  No  idea,"  said  I. 

"  Blast  ye.  I  wish  y'had,"  he  growled  viciously,  and  I 
turned  away  to  smile. 

We  passed  through  a  village  littered  with  the  Duke's 
baggage  wagons  and  pretty  full  of  soldiery.  This  chilled 
my  spirit  somewhat,  for  it  looked  as  if  we  were  about  to 
run  into  the  rear  of  the  Royal  army.  Outside  the  village, 
however,  we  again  had  the  road  to  ourselves,  and  a  mile 
farther  on  dropped  to  a  walk  to  climb  a  long  slant  of  road. 

Whenever  the  road  curved  my  way  I  had  seen  the  corporal 
and  his  two  men  riding  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  yards 


292  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

ahead  of  us.  Not  very  far  up  the  slope  we  came  on  a  farm- 
stead lying  flush  on  the  roadside.  In  the  yard  were  some 
thirty  head  of  shaggy  black  cattle,  of  the  northern  kind 
seldom  seen  in  our  parts  and  therefore  attractive  to  a  farmer's 
eye.  A  farm-hand  leaning  over  the  gate  had  some  noisy 
gossip  with  the  dragoons  as  they  passed,  and  bawled  his 
news  to  a  group  of  men  sitting  at  meat  under  a  hovel.  It 
was  a  poor  enough  place  to  support  so  many  men,  for  the 
farm  wife,  who  came  to  her  kitchen  door  to  see  what  the 
clatter  was  about,  was  of  no  better  seeming  than  a  yokel's 
wife  with  us.  My  eyes  were  on  her  curiously  when  the  man 
on  the  gate  skipped  off  and  flung  it  open  right  across  the 
muzzles  of  our  horses. 

In  the  tick  of  a  clock  the  whole  scene  changed.  The 
men  under  the  hovel  rushed  out,  fell  on  the  cattle,  thrashed 
them  mercilessly  with  great  battoons,  yelled  at  them  like 
maniacs,  and  drove  them  in  a  shoving,  bellowing,  maddened 
mass  into  the  road,  which  here  had  a  stone  wall  on  the  side 
opposite  the  farm.  When  the  torrent  was  fairly  going,  two 
of  the  supposed  yokels  snatched  up  carbines,  climbed  on  to 
the  hovel,  and  opened  fire  on  the  dragoons  in  our  rear. 

The  master  hand  of  the  Colonel  was  in  this  beyond  a 
doubt.  With  a  loud  curse,  the  sergeant,  who  was  on  the 
side  away  from  the  farm,  opened  the  door  and  was  for 
leaping  out.  He  bethought  himself  and  half  turned,  one 
hand  on  the  door  and  one  foot  on  the  step,  to  look  an  evil 
inquiry  at  me.  That  half-turn  was  his  undoing.  Part  of 
the  living,  struggling  torrent  of  cattle  was  shoved  round 
our  way  and  came  sweeping  by.  One  beast  brushed  the 
door  open  even  as  he  glared  at  me  and  tumbled  him  out- 
wards. As  he  twisted  in  his  fall  another  drove  her  sharp 
horns  clean  into  him,  and  shook  and  twirled  him  off  again 
like  a  terrier  playing  with  a  rat.  The  rearguard  turned  tail 
and  fled.  The  vanguard  had  simply  been  swept  off  the 
scene,  and  I  saw  them  spurring  up  the  slope  with  the  cattle 
surging  after  them.  The  plan  had  been  thought  out  to  a 
nicety  and  had  worked  to  perfection.  I  was  free,  free  for 
Margaret.  I  sat  down  again  dizzied  and  happy. 

My  rescuers  took  no  notice  of  me  but  ran  down  the  road 
n  a  body  and  stood  round  the  sergeant.  After  some  excited 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  293 

talk  they  carried  him  back,  called  on  me  to  aid,  and  rammed 
him  into  the  coach,  where  he  lay  huddled  on  the  seat  in  front 
of  me.  Without  so  much  as  a  word  to  me,  the  commander 
pulled  our  driver  off  the  box,  ordered  a  man  up  in  his  place, 
climbed  after  him,  and  said  briefly,  "  Go  like  the  devil !  " 

The  carriage  turned  up  a  rough  lane  which  ran  eastward 
out  of  the  high  road  opposite  the  farm,  leaving  most  of  my 
rescuers  standing  uncertain  in  a  group.  The  driver  cut  his 
horses  savagely  with  his  whip,  and  we  went  at  a  hard  gallop. 
The  jolting  tumbled  me  about  in  the  coach,  and  I  had  hard 
work,  shackled  as  I  was,  to  keep  the  sergeant  on  the  seat. 
He  was  still  alive,  though  so  hideously  injured  that  death 
could  only  be  a  question  of  minutes.  Where  we  were  going 
and  why  they  were  carrying  him  along  with  us,  were  questions 
it  was  useless  to  bother  about.  Margaret  would  explain 
everything  when  we  met.  I  could  make  little  of  the  men 
who  had  rescued  me.  They  were  clearly  not  farm-hands, 
for  they  were  well  armed,  the  guns  I  had  seen  looked  to  me 
to  be  military  carbines,  and  they  had  carried  through  their 
business  briskly  and  intelligently, 

I  heard  the  men  on  the  box  talking,  but  their  speech  was 
only  about  the  road  and  the  speed.  The  country  got  rougher 
and  wilder  ;  the  distant  hills  were  losing  their  clear-cut, 
rolling  outlines,  and  becoming  neighbours  and  obstacles. 
The  horses  were  thrashed  unmercifully,  but  at  times  even  the 
well-plied  whip  could  get  no  more  than  a  crawl  out  of  them. 

The  sergeant's  end  was  at  hand.  He  rallied,  as  men 
commonly  do  before  they  put  foot  in  the  black  river,  and 
looked  at  me  unrecognizingly.  He  closed  his  eyes  again,  and 
began  to  writhe  and  mutter  strange  words.  Suddenly  he 
cried  plainly,  "  Curse  the  swine  !  Another  wedge,  ye  damned 
chicken-heart !  "  He  looked  at  me  again,  and  this  time 
made  out  who  I  was,  and  cursed  loathsomely  in  his  dis- 
appointment. 

"  D'ye  know  where  y're  going  ? "  he  ended,  leering 
wickedly. 

"  No,"  said  I. 

"  Blast  ye  !  I  wish  ye  did  !  "  He  gurgled  this  almost 
jocosely,  as  if  it  were  a  pet  bit  of  humour. 

"  Do  you  know  where  you  are  going  ?  "  I  asked  solemnly. 


294  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  To  hell,"  he  cried,  and,  after  a  spout  of  blood  that 
spattered  me  as  I  leaned  over  him,  went. 

The  carriage  stopped  and,  before  I  could  rise  to  see  why, 
the  door  was  opened  and  some  one  without  said  politely, 
"  This  is  indeed  a  pleasure,  Master  Wheatman  1 " 

It  was  my  lord  Brocton. 

•  ••••••• 

It  would  be  foolish  to  pretend  that  I  was  not  bitten  to  the 
bone,  and  I  can  only  hope  that  I  did  not  give  outward  ex- 
pression to  a  tithe  of  the  chagrin  and  dismay  that  possessed 
me.  Being  commanded  to  do  so,  I  got  out  of  the  coach 
without  a  word  and  looked  around. 

The  rough  road  along  which  we  had  been  travelling  ran 
on  through  a  slit  in  the  hills.  Where  we  stood  a  bridle-path 
parted  from  it  at  a  sharp  angle  and  made  its  way  over  the 
lower  skirts  of  the  hill  country.  It  was  a  desolate,  dreary 
spot  where,  as  I  suspected,  the  king's  writ  ran  not  and  where, 
therefore,  a  man  might  be  done  to  death  with  all  conveniency. 
Master  Freake  would  be  useless  to  me  now,  and  my  chiefest 
enemy  had  me  at  his  will. 

There  was  no  delay.  A  long  cloak  was  put  over  me,  so 
disposed  as  to  hide  my  fetters,  and  I  was  lifted  on  a  spare 
horse  led  by  one  of  the  new-comers.  The  skill  with  which  the 
affair  had  been  planned  was  shown  by  the  fact  that  this 
horse,  to  accommodate  my  shackled  legs,  had  been  saddled 
as  for  a  lady. 

"  You  know  exactly  what  to  do  ?  "  asked  his  lordship  of 
the  men  on  the  coach. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  one  of  them,  "  but  what  about " 

He  finished  the  sentence  by  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  towards  the 
dead  sergeant. 

"  Leave  him  there  !  Egad,  Master  Wheatman,  is  not  that 
a  touch  of  the  real  artist  ?  " 

"  The  key  of  these  things  is  in  his  breeches'  pocket,"  said 
I,  speaking  for  the  first  time,  and  waggling  my  fetters  as  I 
did  so. 

"  Get  it  out,  Tomlins  !  " 

The  man  who  had  asked  the  question  climbed  down  and 
obeyed  the  order  with  the  callousness  of  a  dog  nosing  a  dead 
rabbit.  Then  our  parties  separated.  The  coach  continued 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  295 

along  the  main  road,  if  so  it  may  be  called,  and  we  took  to  the 
track.  I  looked  curiously  after  the  coach,  wondering  where 
it  was  bound,  and  with  what  object. 

"  More  art,"  said  his  lordship.  "  A  coach  is  a  seeable, 
trackable  thing,  and  it  will  throw  everybody  off  the  scent. 
I'm  glad  the  ruffian's  dead.  He  was  overmuch  wise  in  my 
affairs." 

As  we  rode  on  into  the  interminable  wastes,  he  rallied 
me  gleefully,  but  soon  tired  of  my  moroseness. 

"  His  arrival  will  make  an  affecting  picture,"  he  said 
mockingly  to  his  men.  He  was  feverishly  excited,  and  must 
boast  to  some  one.  "  No  pliant  damsel  to  rush  into  his 
longing  arms  !  He  is  to  be  embraced  though,  my  masters, 
if  need  be." 

What  this  obscure  threat  might  portend,  I  could  not  see, 
but  it  chimed  in  with  the  delirious  cruelty  of  the  dead  ser- 
geant. Threats  for  the  future  mattered  not,  the  present 
being  so  unendurable.  A  man  in  Brocton's  position  must  be 
hard  put  to  it  to  turn  traitor  in  this  strange  fashion.  He  had 
"  rescued  "  me  with  his  own  men,  and,  lord  or  no  lord,  he 
would  hang  for  it  were  it  once  known  to  a  lover  of  the  gibbet 
like  the  Duke's  Grace  of  Cumberland.  What  on  earth  was 
the  letter  about  ?  Master  Freake  had  definitely  said  lands, 
and  therefore  lands  it  must  be,  though  nothing  less  than 
the  whole  Ridgeley  estates  could  be  in  question.  The 
thousand  and  more  acres  of  the  Upper  Hanyards,  sweet 
meadows  stretching  a  mile  along  the  river  and  a  sitatch  of  the 
chase  at  its  wildest  and  loveliest,  the  prize  that  had  fallen 
to  the  rascal  earl  in  the  great  lawsuit,  had  been  promised  me 
as  readily  as  a  pinch  of  snuff.  I  gloated  over  the  revenge  I  was 
winning  for  my  race,  a  race  rooted  in  those  darling  Hanyards 
a  century  before  the  Ridgeleys  were  heard  of,  for  the  first 
earl,  the  grandfather  of  the  old  rogue,  started  as  an  obscure 
pimp  to  Charles  the  Second,  and  was  enriched  and  ennobled 
for  his  assiduity. 

But  no  familiary  pride  could  cheer  me  for  long.  The 
dead  landscape  around  chilled  me.  The  chiefest  misery 
was  to  remember  the  hope  with  which  I  had  started  that 
morning.  Margaret  was  the  fancied  end  of  my  journey, 
and  the  real  end  was  this !  I  had  to  bite  my  lips  till  I  felt 


296  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

the  trickle  of  blood  in  the  stubble  on  my  chin  to  keep  back 
unmanly  revilings. 

At  last  we  came  out  on  what  was  by  comparison  a  made 
road,  and  now  his  lordship  grew  plainly  anxious  and  haggard. 
We  rode  madly  along  it,  so  that,  riding  shackled  and  woman- 
fashion,  I  had  hard  work  to  keep  my  seat.  Brocton's  head 
was  incessantly  on  the  turn  to  see  if  we  were  observed,  but 
his  luck  was  absolute.  We  saw  no  one  on  the  road,  and, 
after  a  hard  stretch,  we  turned  up  a  gully  to  our  left  and  were 
once  more  buried  among  the  hills. 

After  much  turning  and  twisting  we  came  in  sight  of  a 
small  house  of  grey  stone  which,  from  its  appearance  and 
situation,  I  judged  to  be  some  gentleman's  shooting  lodge. 
We  cut  across  the  valley,  on  one  slope  of  which  it  stood,  and 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  cottage  roofs  beyond  it.  We  worked 
round  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  and,  in  a  favouring  clump  of 
trees,  his  lordship  called  a  halt.  The  horses  were  tethered, 
and  I  was  lifted  down,  and  the  rings  round  my  ankles  were 
unlocked.  The  mer  took  one  each,  and  carried  their  carbines 
in  their  free  hands.  Brocton  drew  his  rapier,  and  said, 
"  Forward  !  Make  a  sound,  show  the  slightest  sign  of  resist- 
ance, and  I  run  you  through." 

There  was  no  sense  in  disobeying,  and  I  accommodated 
myself  to  his  design,  which  was  clearly  to  get  into  the  house 
unobserved  from  without.  In  this  he  was  successful,  or  at 
any  rate  I  saw  no  one  during  our  crawl  from  one  point  of 
vantage  to  another  up  to  the  back  entrance.  Now  his 
lordship  skipped  gaily  from  behind  me  and  opened  the  door. 
He  stepped  softly  in,  and  I  was  pushed  after  him  by  his 
dragoons. 

"  '  Friends  will  rescue  you  and  bring  you  to  me,' "  he 
quoted,  jeering  me.  "  There's  no  Margaret  for  you,  Farmer 
Wheatman.  I  shall  have  her  yet !  "  Then,  beast  as  he 
was,  while  the  men  kept  me  back,  nearly  tearing  my  arms 
out  of  their  sockets,  he  stuck  the  point  of  his  rapier  over  my 
heart  and  babbled  half-delirious  beastliness. 

We  were  in  a  big,  bare  kitchen,  the  other  door  of  which  was 
closed.  There  was  no  sign  of  anyone  about,  and  Brocton, 
still  with  his  sword  ready  for  me,  bawled  out,  "  Where  are 
you,  you  old  hag  ?  " 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  297 

The  door  opened  at  once.  Brocton  dropped  his  sword 
in  his  fright  and  I  clapped  my  foot  on  it.  The  two  men 
fled  like  rabbits.  Familiar  as  the  picture  is  to  my  mind, 
it  is  hard  to  find  words  to  fit  this  crowning  moment  of  my 
adventures. 

Margaret  walked  into  the  room. 

For  a  second  she  was  minded  to  rush  at  me,  but  thought 
better  of  it,  and  walked  up  to  his  lordship.  She  towered 
over  his  limp,  cringing  figure,  and  said  coldly,  "  You  are 
too  poor  a  cur  to  be  struck  by  a  woman  or  I  would  strike 
you." 

She  was  not  alone.  Master  Freake  was  now  wringing 
my  shackled  hands  delightedly,  and  a  little,  deft  man,  whom 
I  knew  on  sight  to  be  Dot  Gibson,  was  searching  his  un- 
resisting lordship's  pockets  for  the  key  of  the  irons.  A  minute 
later  he  banged  them  on  the  floor  and  said,  "  And  how  do  you 
find  yourself,  sir  ?  " 

There's  no  more  to  be  said  about  Brocton.  He  was  as 
good  as  dead  for  the  remainder  of  the  business,  and  no  one 
heeded  him  any  more  than  if  he  had  been  a  loathsome 
insect  that  a  man's  foot  had  trodden  on.  And  what  killed 
him  was  the  presence  of  a  third  man,  a  perfect  stranger  to 
me.  He  was  an  old-looking  rather  than  an  old  man,  with 
rheumy  eyes  that  looked  through  narrow  slits,  and  a  big 
unshapely  nose  ;  the  skin  of  his  face  was  brown  and  crinkled 
like  a  dried-up  bladder  ;  his  whole  appearance  as  a  man  was 
mean  and  paltry.  What  distinction  he  had  was  given  him 
by  gorgeous  clothing  and  the  attendance  of  a  pompous  ass 
in  a  flaming  livery.  Yet  Brocton  dared  not  look  at  him 
again,  as  he  shuffled  forward  on  his  man's  ann  to  speak  to 
Master  Freake. 

"  Mr.  Freake,"  he  piped,  laying  an  imploring  hand  on  the 
merchant's  arm,  "  you  will  not  be  too  hard  on  my  foolish 
son  ?  " 

It  was  the  old  rascal  Earl  of  Ridgeley.  I  had  not  seen 
him  since  the  trial,  when  I  was  but  a  lad.  In  the  meantime 
vice  had  eaten  out  of  him  such  manliness  as  had  ever  been  in 
him.  Rascaldom  was  still  stamped  on  him,  but  he  was  now 
in  a  state  of  abject  terror.  He  and  his  son  were  indeed,  as 
Jane  puts  it  to  this  day,  two  to  a  pair. 


298  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Your  lordships  will  be  pleased  to  wait  on  me  in  the  room 
yonder,"  said  Master  Freake,  in  his  grave,  decisive  way, 
"  and  I  will  tell  you  my  will  on  the  matter." 

He  bowed  ironically  towards  the  door.  Their  unlordly 
lordships  went  off  together,  and  he  followed  and  closed  the 
door  behind  him.  Dot  sensibly  hustled  off  the  lackey,  and 
so  we  were  alone  together. 

As  ever,  I  had  my  full  reward.  She  turned  to  me,  took 
my  hands  in  hers,  and  whispered,  "  My  splendid  Oliver  !  " 

"  What,  madam  ? "  said  I,  laughing  lest  I  should  do 
otherwise  and  most  unbecomingly.  "  In  a  red  beard  ?  " 

"  You  look  like  a  Cossack !  "  she  declared,  laughing  in 
her  turn. 

So,  in  the  way  we  had,  we  kept  ourselves  at  arm's  length 
from  each  other  and  dropped  at  once  into  our  old  footing. 

Then,  bit  by  bit,  and  unwillingly,  and  mainly  in  answers 
to  my  questions,  she  told  a  tale  that  made  my  heart  bound 
within  me.  This  is  the  mere  skeleton  of  it,  for  I  have  no  skill 
to  give  body  and  soul  to  such  devotion. 

The  Colonel  brought  the  news  of  my  capture  by  Brocton, 
pieced  together  from  the  stories  of  my  men,  who  got  back 
unhurt,  and  of  one  of  Brocton's  dragoons  who  was  luckily 
taken  prisoner  in  order  to  be  questioned.  Margaret  had 
immediately  started  on  horseback  for  London,  with  one 
English  servant  in  attendance,  going  by  Appleby  to  evade 
the  Duke's  army,  and  across  the  mountains  to  Darlington. 
There  she  had  travelled  flying  post  down  the  great  north 
road,  getting  to  London  in  five  days  thirteen  hours  after  her 
start  from  Penrith. 

Master  Freake  had  started  back  with  her  within  five  hours 
of  her  arrival.  They  travelled  post  through  Leicester  and 
Derby,  and  then  on  over  ground  that  was  familiar.  No 
wonder  I  had  thought  her  near,  since  she  had  passed  within 
fifty  paces  of  me  as  I  shambled  about  dreaming  of  her.  Part 
of  the  five  hours'  delay  in  London  was  taken  up  by  a  visit  paid 
by  Master  Freake  to  the  Earl  of  Ridgeley.  He  had  gone  forth 
stern  and  resolute.  What  had  happened  she  did  not  know, 
but  as  they  sped  north  the  Earl  sped  north  a  mile  behind 
them,  as  if  they  were  dragging  him  along  by  his  heart-strings. 
At  Carlisle,  now  in  the  hands  of  the  Duke,  they  drew  blank, 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  299 

for  Brocton  was  unaccountably  absent  from  military  duty. 
Fortunately  Margaret,  from  the  window  of  her  room,  saw 
the  sergeant  ride  by.  Dot  was  sent  on  his  track  and  learned 
that  Brocton  was  here,  the  house  being  a  hunting-lodge 
belonging  to  a  crony  of  his  who  was  an  officer  in  the  Cumber- 
land militia.  They  had  ridden  out  that  morning  to  see  him, 
at  which  point  her  tale  linked  up  with  mine  and  ended. 

"  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you,  Margaret,"  said  I,  very 
lamely,  slipping  out  her  name  at  unawares. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  she  cried.  "  May  I  not  do  as  much  as  your 
pet  ghostie  did  for  you  without  being  a  miracle  ?  Do  not  you 
dare,  sir,  to  offer  me  a  pinnerfull  of  guineas  !  " 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  and  I 
feel  sure  I  knew  what  she  was  thinking  of.  But  Nance 
Lousely  was  a  simple  country  maiden,  such  as  I  was  born  and 
bred  amongst,  and  at  that  time  I  had  no  vile  red  stubble, 
rough  as  a  horse-comb,  on  my  chin. 

We  were  interrupted  by  the  lackey,  who  came  with  Mr. 
Dot  Gibson's  respects  to  his  honour,  and  would  his  honour 
like  the  refreshment  of  a  shave  and  a  bath  as  both  were  at  his 
service  ?  Like  master,  like  man.  This  resplendent  person 
was  for  the  nonce  humility's  self.  I  went  with  him  and  was 
made  clean  and  comfortable,  and  my  rags  trimmed  a  little. 

This  was  preliminary  to  being  summoned  by  Master 
Freake  to  a  discussion  with  their  lordships,  with  whom  was 
Margaret,  aloof  and  icy. 

"  At  the  '  Ring  o'  Bells,'  "  began  Master  Freake,  addressing 
me,  "  you  took  from  my  lord  Brocton's  sergeant,  now  dead,  a 
bundle  of  papers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Among  them  a  letter  addressed  simply,  '  To  His  Royal 
Highness '  ?  " 

"  That  is  so,  sir." 

"  You  gave  that -letter  to  me,  unopened,  in  the  presence  of 
Mistress  Waynflete  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  said  I,  and  Margaret  nodded  agreement. 

"  Several  attempts  have  been  made  to  recover  the  letter 
from  you  ?  " 

"  At  least  three  such  attempts  were  made  by  the  late 
sergeant,  and  two  by  my  lord  Brocton,"  I  replied. 


300  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Their  lordships'  urgent  need  of  recovering  the  letter 
is  thus  proven,  and  the  Court  will  attach  due  weight  to  the 
facts,"  said  Master  Freake.  Brocton  turned  white  as  a 
sheet,  and  the  old  rogue  shook  as  a  dead  leaf  shakes  on  its 
twig  before  the  wind  strips  it  off.  There  was  in  them  none  of 
the  family  pride  which  keeps  the  great  families  agoing. 

"  I  opened  the  letter.  I  mastered  its  contents.  I  still 
have  it,"  continued  Master  Freake,  every  sentence,  like  the 
crash  of  a  sledge-hammer,  making  these  craven  bystanders 
shake  at  the  knees.  "  It  is  deposited,  sealed  up  again, 
with  a  sure  friend,  who  has  instructions,  unless  I  claim  it  in 
person  on  or  before  the  last  day  of  this  year,  to  deliver  it  in 
person  to  the  King.  At  present  no  one  knows  its  contents 
except  my  lord  Brocton  who  wrote  it,  and  I  who  read  it." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  ejaculated  the  rascal  old  earl  fervently. 

"  Egad,"  thought  I  to  myself.  "  It's  the  Ridgeley  estates, 
no  less." 

"  We  will  call  it,  for  the  purposes  of  our  discussion,"  said 
Master  Freake  soothingly,  "  a  letter  about  certain  lands." 

"  Yes  !  Yes  !  Certainly  !  A  letter  about  lands  !  So 
it  was  !  "  cried  the  Earl  eagerly,  and  Brocton  began  to  look 
less  like  a  coward  on  the  scaffold. 

"  Would  you  prefer  any  other  designation  or  description, 
my  lords  ?  "  inquired  Master  Freake. 

"  I'm  quite  satisfied,  my  good  Master  Freake,"  babbled 
the  Earl. 

"  What  lands  ?  "  I  burst  out,  unaole  to  hold  in  my 
curiosity  any  longer. 

"  The  lands  known  as  the  Upper  Hanyards  in  the  county 
of  Staffordshire,"  replied  Master  Freake. 

"  Well  I'm ,"  cried  I,  in  amazement,  but  pulling  up 

in  time,  and  Margaret's  blue  eyes  were  as  wide  open  as  mine. 

"  You  are,  Master  Oliver  Wheatman,"  said  Master  Freake, 
"  the  future,  rightful  owner  of  the  ancient  estate  of  your 
family  in  all  its  former  amplitude  ;  and  all  arrearages  of  rents 
and  incomings  as  from  the  thirteenth  of  April,  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  thirty-two,  with  compound  interest  at 
the  rate  of  ten  per  cent  per  annum,  together  with  a  com- 
pensation for  disturbance  and  vexation  caused  to  you  and 
yours,  provisionally  fixed  in  the  sum  of  two  thousand  pounds. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  301 

The  Earl  of  Ridgeley,  smitten  to  the  heart  by  the  remem- 
brance of  his  roguery  and  knavery,  has  agreed  to  make  this 
full  restitution.  Am  I  right,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Absolutely,  Master  Freake,  if  you  please,"  whined  the 
rascal  old  earl.  "  My  God,  I'm  a  mined  man  !  " 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  said  Master  Freake,  "  if  you  lose  your 
lands  and  moneys,  and  I  will  not  bate  an  acre  or  a  guinea  of 
the  full  tale,  you  and  your  son  will  at  least  retain  what,  as  I 
see,  you  both  value  more  highly.  The  restitution  is  to  be 
made  by  you  to  me  personally,  so  that  we  can  avoid  quibbles 
about  Oliver's  legal  position,  he  being  a  rebel  confessed,  and 
the  day  after  he  is  inlawed  I  will  in  my  turn  convey  the 
property  in  both  kinds  to  him.  When  the  restitution  has 
been  fully  and  legally  made,  without  speck  or  flaw  in  title, 
and  passed  as  such  by  my  lawyers,  the  letter  will  be  returned 
to  you  sealed  as  now,  and  of  course  I  shall  be  rigidly  silent 
on  the  matter.  Your  lordships,"  he  ended  coldly,  "  may 
start  for  London  at  once  to  see  to  the  matter." 

The  old  earl  started  for  the  door  eagerly,  calling  down  on 
his  son  dire  and  foul  curses.  Brocton  looked  poisonously  at 
me  before  following,  and  I  knew  I  had  not  done  with  him  yet. 

"  I've  got  you  your  lands,  Oliver,  but  there  has  been  no 
time  to  get  you  pardoned.  The  King  was  at  Windsor ;  every 
moment  was  precious  ;  and  there  was  no  use,  in  the  temper 
of  the  town,  in  dealing  with  underlings.  It  will  not  do  to 
run  any  risk  of  your  being  retaken,  for  Cumberland  loves 
blood-letting,  and  is  no  friend  of  mine.  We  shall  take  you 
to  a  little  fishing  village  on  the  Soiway  and  get  you  a  cast 
over  to  Dublin,  whither  my  good  ship,  "  Merchant  of  London," 
Jonadab  Kilroot,  Master,  outward  bound  for  the  Americas, 
will  pick  you  up.  When  we  all  meet  again  in  London,  in  a 
few  months,  you  will  be  pardoned.  Margaret  and  I  must 
now  follow  her  father.  The  Stuart  cause  is  smashed  to 
pieces." 

Late  that  night  I  stood  with  Margaret  on  the  end  of  a 
jetty  in  a  little  fishing  village  on  the  Cumberland  coast. 
Master  Freake  was  giving  final  instructions  to  the  owner  of 
a  herring-buss  that  was  creaking  noisily  against  the  side 
of  the  jetty  under  the  swell  of  the  tide.  Dot  was  busily 


302  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

handing  to  one  of  her  crew  of  two  certain  packages  for 
my  use. 

We  stood  together,  and  she  had  linked  her  arm  in  mine. 
We  who  had  been  so  close  together  for  a  month  were  now  to 
have  an  ocean  put  between  us.  Not  that  that  mattered  to 
me,  already  separated  from  her  by  something  wider  than  the 
Atlantic,  a  lonely  unnamed  grave  away  there  in  Stafford- 
shire. 

Suddenly  she  called  to  Dot,  and  he,  as  knowing  just  what 
she  wanted,  brought  her  a  box.  She  loosed  her  arm  from 
mine  and  took  it  from  him,  and  when  I  would  in  turn  have 
relieved  her  of  it,  she  gently  refused. 

"  Oliver,"  she  said,  in  quiet,  firm  tones,  "  you  met  me 
when  I  was  in  grave  danger  and  immediately,  like  the  gallant 
gentleman  you  are,  left  mother  and  home  to  do  me  service." 

"  It  was  the  privilege  of  my  life,  madam,"  I  said  earnestly. 

"  You  have  sweetened  your  service  by  so  regarding  it, 
giving  greatly  when  you  gave.  And,  sir,  that  service  put  me 
in  your  debt.  You  see  that  ?  " 

"  It  is  like  you  to  say  so.     What  of  it  ?  " 

"  The  time  came  when  you  were  in  danger,  and  I,  in  my 
turn,  left  my  father  and  rode  hard  to  save  you.  I  am  not 
boasting,  you  understand,  sir.  I  am  merely  stating  a  fact. 
I  rendered  service  for  service,  like  for  like,  did  I  not,  sir  ?  " 

"  You  did,  madam,  and  did  it  splendidly,"  said  I. 

"  Then,  sir,  when  we  meet  again,"  she  said,  and  she 
was  now  speaking  very  clearly  and  sweetly,  looking  me 
full  in  the  eyes,  potent  in  all  her  beauty  and  queenliness, 
"  when  we  meet  again,  we  meet  on  level  terms." 

"  Are  you  ready,  lad  ?  "  called  Master  Freake. 

"  Coming,  sir !  "  I  cried,  almost  glad  at  heart  of  the 
escape. 

"  One  moment,  Oliver  1  "  said  Margaret.  "  So  anxious 
to  be  rid  of  me  ?  Nay,  I  jest  of  course  !  I've  a  little 
present  for  you  here,  Oliver.  It  will,  I  hope,  make  you 
think  of  me  at  times." 

"  It  will  not,"  I  replied,  smiling.  "  It  will  make  me 
think  oftener  of  you,  that's  all." 

She  handed  me  the  box,  and  we  walked  up  to  the  boat. 

The  half-moon  was  bright  in  an  unclouded  sky,  and  it 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  303 

showed  me  tears  on  Margaret's  cheeks,  as  I  bent  to  clasp 
and  kiss  her  hand.  Then  I  said  good-bye  to  Master  Freake 
and  Dot,  and  was  helped  into  the  boat. 

So  we  parted,  and  I  set  my  face  toward  the  New  World. 
For  ten  weary  months  there  is  nothing  to  be  said  that  belongs 
of  right  and  necessity  to  my  story. 

Except  this  :  The  first  thing  I  did  when  I  was  alone  in 
my  cabin  on  the  good  ship,  the  "  Merchant  of  London,"  was 
to  open  Margaret's  box.  It  contained  a  full  supply  of 
books  wherefrom  to  learn  "  the  only  language  one  can  love 
in,"  and  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a  sumptuous  "  Dante  "  she  had 
written,  "  From  Margaret  to  Oliver." 


CHAPTER   XXV 
I  SETTLE  MY  ACCOUNT  WITH  MY  LORD  BROCTON 

OF  how  I  fared  the  seas  with  Jonadab  Kilroot,  master 
of  the  stolid  barque,  "Merchant  of  London,"  I  say 
nothing,  or  as  good  as  nothing.  Master  Kilroot  was 
a  noisy,  bulky  man,  with  a  whiff  of  the  tar-barrel  ever 
about  him  and  a  heart  as  stout  as  a  ship's  biscuit.  He 
feared  God  always,  and  drubbed  his  men  whenever  it  was 
necessary  ;  in  his  estimation  the  office  of  sea-captain  was 
the  most  important  under  heaven,  and  Master  John  Freake 
the  greatest  man  on  earth. 

The  ship  remained  at  anchor  in  Dublin  harbour  while 
tailors  and  tradesmen  of  all  sorts  fitted  me  out,  for  Master 
Freake  had  given  me  guineas  enough  .for  a  horse-load.  I 
did  very  well,  for  Dublin  is  a  vice-regal  city,  with  a  Parlia- 
ment of  its  own  and  reasonable  society,  so  that  the  modes 
and  fashions  are  not  more  than  a  year  or  so  behind  London, 
which  did  not  matter  to  a  man  going  to  the  Americas. 

From  Dublin  I  wrote  home.  I  had  laid  one  strict 
injunction  on  Margaret.  She  was  not  to  go  to  the  Hanyards, 
or  write  there,  or  allow  anyone  else  to  do  either.  I  would 
not  suffer  her  to  know,  or  to  run  any  chance  of  knowing, 


304  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

about  Jack.  She  was  greatly  troubled  over  the  matter, 
but  I  was  so  decided  that  she  consented  to  my  demand. 

It  cost  me  a  world  of  pains  to  write.  I  wrote,  rewrote, 
and  tore  up  scores  of  letters.  Finally  I  merely  sent  them 
word  that  I  was  going  to  America  to  wait  till  the  trouble 
was  blown  over,  and  that  I  should  be  with  them  again  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  gave  them  no  address.  It  was  cowardly, 
but  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  it.  The  nightmare  that 
haunted  me  was  my  going  home,  home  to  our  Kate,  the 
sweetest  sister  man  ever  had,  with  her  young  heart  wrapped 
for  ever  in  widow's  weeds.  I  used  to  dream  that  I  rode  up 
to  the  yard-gate  on  Sultan,  and  every  time,  in  my  dream, 
the  Hanyards  looked  so  desolate  and  woebegone,  as  if  the 
very  barns  and  byres  were  mourning  for  the  dear  dead  lad 
who  had  played  amongst  them,  that  I  pulled  Sultan  round 
and  spurred  him  away  till  he  flew  like  the  wind,  and  I  woke 
up  in  a  cold  sweat. 

On  a  Wednesday  morning  in  the  middle  of  February 
the  "  Merchant  of  London  "  swung  into  Boston  Harbour  on  a 
full  tide  and  was  moored  fast  by  the  Long  Wharf.  Master 
Kilroot  hurried  me  ashore  to  the  house  of  the  great  Boston 
merchant,  Mr.  Peter  Faneuil,  to  whom  I  carried  a  letter 
from  Master  Freake.  It  was  enough.  My  friend's  pro- 
tecting arm  reached  across  the  Atlantic,  and  if  it  were  part 
of  my  plan  to  tell  at  length  of  my  doings  in  the  New  World, 
I  should  have  much  to  say  about  this  worthy  merchant  of 
Boston.  He  was  earnest  and  assiduous  in  his  kindness, 
and  so  far  as  my  exile  was  pleasant  he  made  it  so. 

Mr.  Faneuil  was  urgent  that  I  should  take  up  my  abode 
with  him,  but  this  I  gratefully  declined,  and  he  thereon 
recommended  me  to  lodge  with  the  widow  of  a  ship-captain 
who  had  been  drowned  in  his  service.  So  I  took  lodging 
with  her  at  her  house  in  Brattles  Street,  and  she  made  me 
very  comfortable.  She  had  a  daughter,  a  pretty  frolic  lass 
of  nine,  who  promoted  me  uncle  the  first  day,  and  one  negro 
slave,  who  was  the  autocrat  of  the  establishment  till  my 
coming  put  his  nose  out  of  joint,  as  we  say  in  Staffordshire. 

Master  Kilroot  unshipped  most  of  his  inward  cargo  and 
sailed  away  for  Carolina  and  Virginia  to  get  rice  and 
tobacco.  Then  he  would  come  back  here  to  make  up  his 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  305 

return  cargo  with  dried  fish,  to  be  exchanged  at  Lisbon  for 
wine  for  England.  This  was  his  ordinary  round  of  trade, 
and  a  very  profitable  traffic  it  was. 

When  he  had  left,  I  settled  down  to  make  my  exile 
profitable.  By  a  great  slice  of  luck  there  was  at  this  tune 
in  Boston  an  Italian,  one  Signer  Zandra,  who  gave  lessons 
in  his  native  tongue  openly  and  in  the  art  of  dancing  secretly. 
The  wealth  of  the  town  was  growing  apace  ;  there  was  a 
leisured  class,  and,  speaking  generally,  the  Bostonians  were 
alert  of  mind  and  desirous  of  knowledge  above  any  other 
set  of  men  I  have  ever  lived  among.  In  the  near-by  town  of 
Cambridge  there  was  a  vigorous  little  university  with  more 
than  a  hundred  students.  Moreover,  there  was  a  rising 
political  spirit  which  gave  me  a  keen  interest  in  the  men  who 
breathed  the  quick  vital  air  of  this  vigorous  new  England. 
In  many  respects  I  found  myself  back  in  the  times  of  Smite- 
and-spare-not  Wheatman,  captain  of  horse  in  the  army  of 
the  Lord-General.  The  genuine,  if  somewhat  narrow,  piety 
of  the  Bostoneers  reminded  me  of  him,  and  still  more  their 
healthy  critical  attitude  towards  rulers  in  general  and  kings 
in  particular.  They  had  the  old  Puritan  stuff  in  them  too, 
for  some  eight  months  before  they  had  captured  Louisberg 
from  the  French,  a  famous  military  exploit  which  the  great 
Lord-General  would  have  gloried  in. 

My  days  were  all  twins  to  each  other.  Every  morning, 
after  breakfast,  I  went  abroad  and  always  the  same  way : 
past  the  quaint  Town  House,  down  King  Street,  and  so  on 
to  the  Long  Wharf  to  see  if  a  ship  had  come  in  from  England, 
and  to  ask  the  captain  thereof  if  he  had  brought  a  letter  for 
one  Oliver  Wheatman  at  Mr.  Peter  Faneuil's.  I  got  no 
letter  and  no  news.  Then,  always  a  little  sad  in  heart.  I 
strolled  back,  and  looked  in  at  Wilkins'  book-shop,  where 
some  of  the  town  notables  were  always  to  be  found,  and 
where,  one  May  morning,  as  I  was  higgling  over  the  purchase 
of  a  fine  Virgil,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  remarkable 
young  gentleman,  Mr.  Sam  Adams,  a  genius  by  birth,  a 
maltster  by  trade,  and  a  politician  by  choice.  We  would 
discuss  books  together  in  Master  Wilkins',  or  slip  out  to  a 
retired  inn  called  "  The  Two  Palaverers  "  and  discuss  politics 
over  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco.  I  liked  him  so 

20 


306  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

much  that  I  was  afraid  to  tell  him  I  had  been  fighting  for  the 
Stuarts,  and  was  content  to  pass  in  the  role  Mr.  Faneuil 
had  assigned  to  me  of  an  ingenuous  young  English  gentleman 
who  had  come  out  to  study  colonial  matters  on  the  spot 
before  entering  Parliament.  Our  talk  over,  I  went  on  to 
Signer  Zandra's  and  worked  at  Italian  for  two  hours.  Most 
days  I  took  him  back  to  my  lodging  for  dinner  and  read  and 
talked  Italian  with  him  for  another  hour  or  two.  The  rest 
of  the  day  I  gave  to  reading,  exercising,  and,  thanks  to  the 
good  merchant,  to  the  best  society  in  Boston. 

Occasionally,  when  I  knew  for  certain  that  no  ship  would 
clear  for  home  for  two  or  three  days,  I  made  little  shooting 
journeys  inland,  but  in  the  main  this  is  how  I  spent  my 
days,  filling  them  with  work  and  distraction  so  as  not  to  have 
idle  hours  for  idler  thinking.  Spring  passed,  summer  came 
and  went,  and  the  leaves  were  turning  from  gold  to  brown 
when  one  morning,  as  I  was  at  breakfast,  Mr.  Faneuil's  man 
came  in  with  a  letter.  It  was  from  Master  Freake,  summon- 
ing me  home  as  all  was  put  right.  It  contained  a  few  lines 
from  Margaret,  written  in  Italian.  A  ship  was  sailing  for 
London  that  day,  and  I  went  on  her. 

Jonadab  Kilroot  had  found  his  way  across  the  Atlantic 
into  Boston  Harbour  much  more  easily  than  I  was  finding 
mine  across  London  to  Master  Freake's  house  in  Queen 
Anne's  Gate.  It  was  after  nine  at  night,  at  which  late  hour, 
of  course,  I  did  not  intend  to  arouse  the  inmates,  but  I  meant 
to  find  the  place  so  that  I  could  stand  outside  and  imagine 
Margaret  within,  perchance  dreaming  of  me.  At  last  I 
observed  that  men  with  torches  were  clearly  being  used  as 
guides  through  this  black  maze  of  streets,  and  I  stopped  one 
such  and  offered  him  a  guinea  to  do  his  office  for  me.  He 
was  a  lean,  shabby,  hungry-looking  man,  who  might  be  forty 
by  the  look  of  him.  He  stared  vacantly  at  me  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  hurriedly  led  the  way,  holding  his  link 
high  over  his  head. 

This  trouble  over,  another  began,  which  put  me  in  a 
towering  rage.  A  gaudy  young  gentleman  bumped  into  me 
and,  though  it  was  clearly  his  fault,  I  apologized  and  passed 
on,  leaving  him  hopping  about  on  one  foot  and  nursing  the 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER         .       307 

other,  which  I  had  trodden  on.  He  swore  at  me  worse  than 
a  boatswain  at  a  lubber,  and  but  for  the  exquisite  pain  I 
had  caused  him  I  should  have  gone  into  the  matter  with  him. 
I  found  my  linkman  leaning  against  a  post  and  laughing 
heartily. 

"  Never  you  mind,  sir.  He'll  not  take  the  wall  of  you 
again  in  a  hurry." 

"  Take  the  wall  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Done  on  purpose,  sir,  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  you.  The 
young  sparks  do  it  for  a  game." 

Not  much  farther  on,  we  met  a  sedan,  with  an  elegant 
young  lady  in  it,  and  an  elegant  gentleman  walking  along 
by  her  close  up  to  the  chains,  she  being  in  the  roadway. 
There  was  ample  room  for  me  to  pass  between  him  and  the 
wall,  which  was  also  the  courteous  thing  to  do  ;  but  as  soon 
as  my  linkman  had  passed  him,  he  shot  clean  in  my  way. 
I  gave  him  all  the  wall  he  wanted  and  more,  bumping  his  head 
against  it  till  he  apologized  humbly  through  his  rattling  teeth. 
The  lady  shrieked  viciously  at  me,  and  one  of  her  chairmen, 
my  back  being  turned,  pulled  out  his  pole  and  came  to 
attack  me.  My  man,  however,  very  dexterously  pushed  the 
link  in  his  face  as  he  was  straddling  over  the  chains,  and  he 
dropped  the  pole  and  spat  and  spluttered  tremendously. 
I  stepped  across  to  the  lady  and  apologized  for  detaining 
her,  and  then  my  man  and  I  went  on,  easy  victors. 

Arrived  at  Queen  Anne's  Gate,  another  surprise  awaited 
me.  Master  Freake's  windows  were  ablaze  with  light,  and 
the  door  was  being  held  open  by  a  man  in  handsome  livery 
to  admit  an  exquisite  gentleman  and  a  more  exquisite  lady 
who  had  just  arrived  there  in  chairs.  I  gave  my  man  his 
guinea,  and,  after  douting  his  link  in  a  great  iron  extinguisher 
at  the  side  of  the  door,  he  sped  happily  away.  After  watching 
the  arrival  of  three  or  four  more  chairs  and  one  carriage, 
I  summoned  up  all  my  resolution  and  gave  a  feeble  rat- 
tat  with  the  massive  iron  lion's-head  which  served  as 
knocker. 

The  man  in  livery  opened  to  me,  and  I  was  inside  before 
he  could  observe  that  I  was  an  intruder.  True,  I  was  in  my 
best  clothes — my  Sunday  clothes,  as  I  should  have  called  them 
at  home — and  they  were  none  so  bad  ;  but  they  had  been 


308  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

made  in  Boston,  where  fashions  ranged  on  the  sober  side. 
Here  I  looked  like  a  sparrow  in  a  flight  of  bull-finches. 

"  Can  I  see  Master  Freake  ?  "  said  I. 

"  No,"  said  he,  with  uncompromising  promptness. 

"  Is  he  at  home  ?  " 

'  No,"  he  retorted. 

"  This  is  his  house,  I  think  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  he  assented. 

"  Then  I  suppose  all  these  people  are  coming  to  see  you — 
and  cook,"  said  I  gravely. 

The  sarcasm  might  have  got  through  his  thick  skin 
perhaps  but  for  the  intervention  of  another  liveried  gentle- 
man, who  briefly  asserted  that  I  was  "  off  my  head,"  and 
proposed  a  muster  of  forces  to  throw  me  out.  My  own  feeling 
distinctly  was  that  I  was  on  my  head,  not  off  it;  but  his 
suggestion  interested  me,  as  I  do  not  take  readily  to  being 
thrown  out  of  anything  or  anywhere.  Luckily,  a  fresh  arrival 
took  their  attention  off  me  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  while  I 
was  standing  aside  to  admire  the  lady,  who  should  come 
statelily  down  the  grand  staircase  into  the  hall  but  Dot 
Gibson.  He  too  was  in  livery,  but  of  a  grave,  genteel 
sort. 

"  Hello,  Dot,"  said  I,  accosting  him  quietly. 

It  bounced  all  the  gravity  out  of  him.  He  shook  my 
outstretched  hand  vigorously,  and  then  apologized  for  doing 
so,  saying  he  was  so  glad  to  see  me.  "  Jorkins,  you  great 
ass,"  cried  he  to  the  first  servant,  "what  do  you  mean  by 
keeping  his  honour  waiting  ?  " 

Jorkins  looked  apprehensively  at  Dot  and  the  suggester 
of  violence  looked  apprehensively  at  Jorkins  ;  but  Dot  was 
too  full  to  bother  with  them,  and  went  on  :  "  Mr.  Freake 
will  be  delighted,  sir,  and  so  will  Miss  Waynflete.  They're 
always  talking  of  you.  Come  along,  sir !  Allow  me  to 
precede  you." 

He  took  me  upstairs  into  the  library,  and  left  me  there 
alone.  In  a  few  seconds  Master  Freake  burst  in  on  me. 

"  My  dear  lad,"  he  cried,  wringing  my  hand  heartily, 
"  welcome — a  thousand  times  welcome  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I'm  glad  to  be  back,"  was  all  I  could 
say. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  309 

He  put  a  hand  on  each  shoulder  and  stood  at  arm's 
length  to  examine  me. 

"  And  we're  glad  to  have  you  back,  looking  as  fit  and 
brown  as  a  bronze  gladiator.  Come  along  to  your  room  ! 
It's  been  ready  for  you  this  three  months,  for  that  silly 
Margaret  set  to  work  on  it  the  very  day  we  sent  off  your 
letter." 

"  How  is  Mistress  Waynflete,  sir  ?  " 

"  You'll  see  in  five  minutes  if  you'll  only  bestir  yourself. 
The  wits  say  that  there's  no  need  for  George  to  furnish  the 
town  with  a  new  queen  as  I  have  provided  it  with  an  empress." 

He  hurried  me  off  to  my  room,  as  he  called  it,  and  it  was 
so  grand  that  I  crept  about  it  on  tiptoe  for  fear  of  damaging 
something.  There  was  everything  a  young  man  could  want 
except  clothes,  and  Master  Freake  laughingly  assured  me 
that  they  (meaning  Margaret  and  himself)  had  puzzled  for 
hours  to  see  if  they  could  manage  them,  but  had  given  it  up  in 
despair. 

"  I  declared  you'd  pine  and  get  thin,"  he  said,  "  and  she 
vowed  you'd  get  lazy  and  fat." 

I  felt  very  doltish  and  unready  as  I  followed  him  to  the 
drawing-room.  It  was  very  clear  to  me  that  no  meeting  on 
level  terms  was  in  front  of  me,  and  when  I  got  into  a  large, 
brilliant  room  where  some  dozen  splendid  ladies  and  as  many 
elegant,  easy-mannered  gentlemen  were  assembled,  I  felt  in- 
clined to  turn  taiL 

"  Empress."  It  was  the  exact  word.  Master  Freake 
put  his  arm  in  mine  and  led  me  towards  her.  She  was 
sitting  throned  in  one  corner  of  a  roomy,  cushioned  sofa, 
with  half  a  dozen  young  men — the  least  of  them  an  earl,  I 
thought  bitterly — bending  round  her  as  the  brethren's  sheaves 
bent  round  Joseph's.  And,  as  if  she  were  not  overpowering 
enough  of  herself,  everything  that  consummate  skill  and  the 
nicest  artistry  could  do  to  enhance  her  beauty  had  been  done. 
Juno  banqueting  with  the  gods  had  not  looked  more  superb. 
"  On  level  terms,"  I  whispered  to  myself  mockingly,  as 
Master  Freake  led  me  on,  for  one  of  the  circling  sheaves,  with 
whom  she  was  exchanging  easy,  lightsome  banter,  was  my 
finely  chiselled  acquaintance,  the  Marquess  of  Tiverton. 

Except  that  she  cut  a  quip  in  two  when  she  saw  who  it 


310  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

was  that  Master  Freake  was  bringing,  Margaret  gave  no  sign 
of  surprise.  She  neither  paled  nor  reddened,  nor  gushed  nor. 
faltered.  Empress-like  she  simply  added  me  to  her  train. 

"  I  bring  you  an  old  friend,  Margaret,"  said  Master 
Freake,  for  whom,  as  I  saw,  the  worshippers  round  the  idol 
made  way  respectfully. 

"  And  my  old  friend  is  very  welcome,  sir,"  she  answered, 
holding  out  her  hand.  I  bowed  over  it  and  kissed  it.  I 
thought  that  it  trembled  a  little  as  it  lay  in  mine,  but  it  is 
at  least  probable  that  I  was  the  source  of  what  fluttering 
there  was. 

"  I  trust  you  have  had  a  good  voyage,  Mr.  Wheatman  ?  " 
she  questioned  easily. 

"  Excellent,  madam,"  I  replied,  with  imitative  lightness 
of  tone.  "  It  was  like  rowing  on  a  river." 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  steadied  and  darkened,  then  she 
said  with  a  smile,  "  That  being  so,  even  I,  who  am  no  sailor, 
should  have  enjoyed  it  along  with  you." 

This  was  how  we  met.  Whether  on  level  terms  or  not, 
who  shall  decide  ? 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Wheatman,"  broke  in  the  pleasant  voice  of 
the  Marquess,  "  you  don't  happen  to  have  any  venison-pasty 
on  you,  I  suppose  ?  I've  got  some  rattling  good  snuff,  and 
I'll  give  you  a  pinch  for  a  plateful,  as  I  did  up  in  Stafford- 
shire. I  vow,  Miss  Waynflete,  it  makes  me  hungry  to  see 
him." 

This  speech  caused  much  laughter,  and  Margaret  said  it 
was  fortunate  supper  was  ready.  She  then  introduced 
me  to  the  company  around,  and  when  this  was  done,  Master 
Freake  fetched  me  to  renew  the  acquaintance  of  Sir  James 
Blount  and  his  lady,  so  that  I  was  soon  full  of  talk  and 
merriment. 

Supper  and  talk,  wine  and  talk,  basset  and  talk — so  the 
time  went  by  till  long  after  midnight.  Then  one  by  one 
the  guests  dropped  off.  The  Marquess  lingered  longest,  and 
on  going,  pledged  me  to  call  on  him  next  morning. 

"  At  last,"  said  Margaret.  "  Beauty  sleep  is  out  of 
the  question  to-night,  Oliver,  so  tell  us  everything  about 
e.-erything.  It's  glorious  to  have  you  back." 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  dwell  on  my  life  in  London. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  311 

After  a  few  days  it  became  one  long  agony  because  of,  but 
not  by  means  of,  Margaret.  She  did  her  best  for  me,  and 
was  all  patience,  kindness,  and  graciousness,  and  was  plainly 
bent  on  living  on  level  terms  with  me  according  to  her 
promise  and  prophecy.  It  only  required  a  day  or  two  to 
show  me  that  she  had  many  a  man  of  rank  and  wealth  in 
thrall.  As  wealth  went  then,  the  Marquess  of  Tiverton  was, 
by  his  own  fault  and  foolishness,  a  poorish  man,  but  he  was 
lost  in  love  of  her,  and  he  was  only  one  of  the  many  exquisites 
who  were  for  ever  in  and  out  of  Master  Freake's  fine  mansion. 
It  did  not  become  a  Wheatman  of  the  Hanyards  to  cringe 
or  be  abashed  in  any  company,  and  with  the  best  of  them  I 
kept  on  terms  of  ease  and  intimacy.  I  dressed  as  well, 
and  perchance  looked  as  well,  as  they  did,  and  if  my  accom- 
plishments differed  from  theirs  they  differed  for  the  better 
in  Margaret's  eyes,  which  were  the  only  eyes  that  mattered. 

Brief  as  I  intend  to  be,  I  must  set  down  a  few  jottings  on 
things  that  belong  to  the  texture  of  my  story.  To  begin 
with,  the  Colonel,  though  pardoned,  was  still  in  France, 
looking  after  his  affairs  there,  for  before  starting  to  join  the 
Prince  he  had  wisely  shifted  all  his  fortune  over  to  Paris. 

Davie  Ogilvie  had  got  clear  away  after  Culloden,  and  his 
sweet  Ishbel,  though  taken  after  the  battle,  had  been  per- 
mitted to  join  him  there.  It  was  a  great  comfort  to  know 
they  were  safe,  for  there  were  sad  relics  of  my  escapade  in 
London — the  row  of  ghastly,  grinning  heads  over  Temple  Bar. 

Soon  after  my  arrival,  Master  Freake  had  sent  for  his 
lawyers  and  delivered  to  me  in  full  possession  the  Upper 
Hanyards  and  the  huge  tale  of  guineas  which  the  rascal 
old  earl  had  disgorged  as  the  price  of  the  letter.  Master 
Freake  kept  a  rigid  silence  over  the  contents  of  that  famous 
document  "  about  lands,"  and  I  had  no  wish  to  know.  It 
was  worth  a  thousand  acres  and  near  ten  thousand  guineas 
to  the  Earl.  I  was  satisfied  if  he  was.  I  put  my  guineas 
in  a  bank  of  Master  Freake's  choosing.  What  a  dowry  I 
could  have  given  Kate  if 

My  Lord  Brocton  was  in  town.  I  saw  him  several  times, 
in  the  street  or  at  the  play,  but  took  no  notice  of  him.  He 
was  said  to  be  eagerly  hunting  after  a  lady  of  meagre  attrac- 
tions but  enormous  fortune.  Twice  when  I  saw  him  he  had 


312  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

with  him  the  fellow  I  had  bumped  against  the  wall,  a  notorious 
shark  and  swashbuckler,  by  name  and  rank  Sir  Patrick  Gee. 
Tiverton,  who  had  his  own  reasons  for  being  interested  in 
Brocton,  told  me  they  were  hand  and  glove  together. 

In  a  little  while,  a  month  may  be,  a  change  came  over  the 
relation  in  which  Margaret  and  I  stood  to  each  other.  We 
both  fought  against  it  but  in  vain.  We  could  not  travel  on 
parallel  lines,  we  two.  We  must  either  converge  or  diverge, 
and  fate  had  given  me  no  choice. 

I  used  to  pretend  I  was  going  out,  to  ride  or  lounge  with 
the  Marquess  or  some  other  acquaintance,  and  then  slip  up- 
stairs to  the  quiet  old  library,  bury  myself  in  a  windowed 
recess  cut  off  by  curtains,  and  try  to  forget  it  all  in  a  book. 
Fool-like  I  thought  I  could  solve  my  problem  so.  The 
Hanyards  was  calling  me  and  I  dared  not  go.  I  should  leave 
Margaret,  and  I  could  not  leave  her. 

Why,  I  asked  myself  a  thousand  times,  was  I  so  poor  a 
cur  compared  with  Donald  ?  He  had  done  what  I  had  done, 
and  he  had  seen  his  way  at  once  and  followed  it.  He  would 
not  live,  having,  in  all  innocence  and  with  the  most  urgent  of 
all  reasons,  killed  his  friend  Not  that  I  felt  that  his  solution 
was  my  solution.  My  duty  was  to  leave  Margaret  and  to  go 
to  Kate,  to  help  her,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  to  live  down 
her  sorrow,  and  to  show  by  my  life  and  conduct  that  I  would 
pay  the  price.  And  here  I  was,  hovering  moth-like  round 
the  flame. 

Then  again  I  would  say  that  I  would  wait  till  the  in- 
evitable had  happened,  and  Margaret  was  married  to  Tiverton. 
Anything  to  put  it  off,  that  was  really  all  I  was  capable  of. 

To  me,  in  my  recess,  Margaret  came  one  morning. 

"  I  thought  you'd  gone  out,  Oliver,"  she  began. 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  I  altered  my  mind,  and  thought  I'd 
like  reading  better." 

"  You  puzzle  me.     Are  you  quite  well  ?  " 

"  As  fit  as  a  fiddle,"  said  I  cheerily,  and  rose  to  give  her 
my  seat,  for  the  recess  would  only  hold  one. 

"  You're  not  to  move,  sir." 

She  fetched  a  couple  of  cushions,  flung  them  by  the 
window,  and  curled  up  on  them.  I  wished  she  wouldn't, 
for  she  made  a  glorious  picture. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  313 

"  Now,  sir,  I  am  going  to  have  it  out  with  you,"  she  said 
severely  and  smilingly.  I  smiled  back,  and  pulled  myself 
together. 

"  I  hope  '  it '  is  not  a  very  serious  '  it,'  madam,"  I 
replied. 

"  It  may  be.     Does  your  head  ever  trouble  you  ?  " 

"  My  head  ever  trouble  me  ?  "  I  gasped,  taken  aback. 

"  Yes,  your  head,  sir.  When  you  fell  down  those  stairs 
you  received  a  very  serious  wound  on  the  head.  It  gaped 
open  so  that  I  could  have  laid  a  finger  in  the  hole.  Are  you 
sure  it  doesn't  trouble  you,  Oliver  ?  Blows  on  the  head  are 
dreadful  things,  you  know." 

"  Look  at  it,"  said  I,  popping  my  head  down,  and  very 
glad  of  the  chance. 

Her  beautiful  fingers  parted  my  thick,  short,  bristly  hair 
and  found  the  spot. 

"  There's  nothing  wrong  with  the  skull,  is  there  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  No,"  very  doubtfully.     "  It's  healed  splendidly." 

"  Now,  madam,"  said  I,  "  talk  to  me  in  Italian  !  " 

It  was  the  first  time,  by  chance,  that  I  had  thought  of  it. 

For  ten  minutes  she  questioned  and  cross-questioned  me 
in  Italian  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  and  I  came  out  of  the  ordeal 
pretty  well — thanks  to  Signer  Zandra. 

"  Point  one,"  said  I  in  English.  "  The  outside  of  my 
head  is  all  right.  Point  two :  are  you  satisfied  with  the 
inside  ?  " 

For  a  full  minute  she  gazed  in  silence  at  her  feet,  twisting 
them  about  swiftly  and  somewhat  forgetfully.  It  was  trying, 
almost  merciless,  for  she  was  very  beautiful. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  at  length,  but  without  looking  at  me. 
"  You've  done  marvellously  well." 

"  In  the  only  language  one  can  love  in,"  I  said  bitterly. 

The  words  had  no  apparent  effect.  She  still  stared  at  her 
twinkling  feet.  Suddenly  she  lifted  her  eyes  up  to  mine  and 
said,  almost  sharply,  "  Then  what  did  happen  to  you  be- 
tween the  Hanyards  and  Leek  to  change  you  ?  " 

It  was  clean,  swift  hitting,  and  made  me  gasp,  but  I 
managed  to  escape. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  set  out  with  you  from  the  Han- 


314  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

yards  to  serve  you  and  for  no  other  purpose  whatsoever.  In 
my  opinion,  speaking  in  all  modesty,  I  served  you  as  well 
after  Leek  as  before  it.  At  least,  I  tried  to." 

She  leaped  up,  and,  with  great  sweeps  of  her  arm,  flung  the 
cushions  into  the  library.  She  said  briefly,  "  And  you  suc- 
ceeded, sir !  "  Then  she  left  me,  swiftly  and  passionately, 
without  another  word  or  look. 

After  this,  the  gap  between  415  became  obvious. 

Meanwhile  the  Marquess  of  Tiverton  was  doing  his  best 
to  give  me  a  competent  knowledge  of  the  Court-end  of  the 
town.  He  had  a  spacious  mansion  in  Bloomsbury  Square, 
but  this  was  now  let  to  a  great  nabob,  and  he  himself  lived 
in  close-shorn  splendour  in  a  small  house  in  St.  James's. 
Here  I  saw  much  of  him,  for  commonly  I  would  stroll  round 
late  in  the  forenoon  and  rout  him  out  of  bed.  By  an  odd 
turn  we  took  to  each  other  greatly,  and  while  he  drank 
chocolate  in  bed  or  trifled  with  his  breakfast  we  had  many 
talks  on  the  few  subjects  that  mattered  to  him. 

Our  favourite  theme  was  Margaret,  whom  he  outspokenly 
worshipped.  He  rhapsodized  over  her  in  great  stretches, 
calling  me  to  testify  with  him  to  her  divineness,  and  rating 
me  soundly  if,  in  the  bitterness  of  my  heart,  I  was  a  little 
laggard  in  my  devotions.  And,  at  irregular  intervals,  like 
Selah  in  the  Psalms,  he  would  intone  dolefully,  "  And  I 
can't  many  her  !  " 

It  was  no  use  my  protesting  that  an  unmarried  man 
could  marry  any  woman  he  liked  if  she  would  have  him. 

"  A  man  can,"  he  would  reply,  "  but  a  bankrupt  marquess 
can't.  I've  got  to  marry  that  jade.  Pah  !  She's  as  lank  as  a 
hop-pole  and  as  yellow  as  a  guinea.  But  what's  a  marquess 
to  do,  Noll  ?  They  say  she  could  tie  up  the  neck  and  armholes 
of  her  shift  and  fill  it  with  diamonds.  Damn  her !  I  wish 
Brocton  would  snap  her  up,  but  he  can't.  He'll  never  be 
more  than  an  earl  and  I'm  a  marquess.  Curse  my  luck  ! 
Fancy  me  a  marquess  !  I'm  a  disgrace  to  my  order  and  as 
poor  as  a  crow." 

The  '  jade '  referred  to  was  the  nabob's  only  daughter 
and  heiress,  who  was,  as  all  the  town  knew,  to  make  a  great 
match.  My  Lord  Brocton  was  keenly  in  pursuit  of  her,  but 
she  inclined  to  the  Marquess,  who  could  have  had  her  and  her 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  315 

vast  fortune  any  day  for  the  asking.  She  was  certainly 
not  overdone  with  charms,  but  Tiverton  in  his  anger  had  made 
her  out  worse  than  she  was. 

The  morning  after  my  encounter  with  Margaret  in  the 
recess,  Tiverton  was  more  than  usually  talkative,  the  fact 
being  not  unconnected,  I  imagine,  with  an  unsuccessful 
bout  at  White's  the  night  previous.  We  got  through  our 
usual  talk  about  Margaret  and  the  nabobess,  and  then  he 
struck  out  a  new  line. 

"  Now  if  the  divine  Margaret,"  he  said,  "  rightly  so  named 
as  the  pearl  of  great  price  among  women,  were  only  Freake's 
daughter  and  heiress,  I'd  be  on  my  knees  before  her  in  a 
jiffy.  They  say  he  made  cartfuls  of  money  over  that  Jacobite 
business.  Everybody  here  was  selling  at  any  price  the 
stocks  would  fetch,  and  he  was  buying  right  and  left  on  his 
own  terms.  He  was  back  here,  knowing  of  the  retreat  from 
Derby,  over  twenty-four  hours  before  the  courier  came,  and 
the  old  fox  kept  the  news  to  himself.  He's  the  first  man  out 
of  the  city  to  set  up  house  in  the  Court-end.  Old  Borrowdell 
shifted  his  tabernacle  as  far  west  as  Hatton  Gardens  in  my 
father's  time,  and  that  was  thought  pretty  big  and  bold, 
but  here's  Freake  right  in  the  thick  of  it,  and  holds  his  own 
like  a  lion  among  jackals.  Fact  is,  he's  a  right-down  good 
fellow.  Being  a  marquess,  I  ought  to  despise  him,  'stead  of 
which  I  feel  like  a  worm  whenever  he  comes  near  me,  and 
that,  mark  ye,  Noll,  not  because  I  owe  him  close  on  ten 
thousand.  I  used  to  owe  a  rascal  named  Blayton  quite  as 
much,  and  every  time  he  came  whining  round  here  I  either 
wanted  to  kick  him  out  or  did  it.  Heigh-ho  !  I'm  in  the 
very  devil  of  a  mess  but  I'll  cheat  scraggy-neck  yet.  I'll 
reform  outright,  Noll.  I'll  never  touch  a  card  again  as  long 
as  I  live." 

"  That's  the  talk  !  "  said  I  heartily.  "  Eat  something 
and  let's  have  the  horses  out  for  a  gallop  across  Putney 
Heath." 

Next  evening,  early,  being  very  miserable,  I  went  round 
to  the  Blounts,  with  whom  I  was  very  friendly.  I  forgot 
myself  for  a  time,  it  being  impossible  to  think  of  anything 
while  lying  on  my  back  on  the  hearth,  with  baby  Blount 
trying  to  pull  my  hair  out  by  the  roots  and  cutting  a  stubborn 


316  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

tooth  on  my  nose.  He  was  a  delightful,  pitiless,  young 
rascal  and  would  leave  anything  and  anybody  to  maul  me 
about. 

I  had,  however,  for  once  mistaken  my  billet,  for  while 
thus  engaged  who  should  come  in  with  his  mother  but 
Margaret  ? 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  to  trust  baby  with  such  an  inex- 
perienced nurse  ?  "  asked  Margaret,  smiling  at  my  discom- 
fiture, for  I  had  to  lie  there  till  I  was  rescued  from  the  young 
dog's  clutches. 

"  Not  at  all.  When  he's  with  a  baby,  he  becomes  a 
baby,  which  is  what  they  want.  He'll  make  an  ideal  father, 
don't  you  think  ?  "  said  her  ladyship  happily. 

"  I  think  he  will,"  said  Margaret  in  a  very  judicial  tone, 
but  she  coloured  as  she  said  it. 

While  Lady  Blount  disposed  of  baby,  Margaret  beckoned 
me  aside.  "  Oliver,  you'll  do  me  a  favour,  won't  you  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  said  I. 

"  As  I  came  here  in  a  chair,  I  saw  the  Marquess  going  into 
White's.  I  fear  he  may  be  gambling  again.  He  easily  yields 
to  the  temptation,  and  soon  becomes  reckless.  Will  you  call 
in,  as  if  by  chance,  and  coax  him  out  ?  I  would  have  him 
saved  from  himself,  and  you  have  great  influence  over  him." 

"  If  he  won't  come  out,"  said  I,  smiling,  "  I'll  lug  him 
out !  " 

I  excused  myself  to  Lady  Blount  and  set  forth  on  my 
errand,  willingly  enough,  since  she  desired  it  and  I  liked  him, 
but  all  the  way  I  thought  of  her  anxious  face  as  she  asked 
me. 

At  White's  I  found  Tiverton  playing  piquet  with  Brocton. 
A  heap  of  °oiineas  was  by  his  side,  and  he  was  flushed  and 
excited  with  success.  The  bout  had  attracted  some  atten- 
tion, for  the  stakes  were  running  high,  and  eight  or  nine  men 
were  gathered  round  the  players,  among  them  Sir  Patrick 
Gee.  I  waited  while  the  hand  was  played  out.  Tiverton  re- 
piqued  his  opponent,  and  joyously  raked  over  to  his  side  of 
the  table  four  tall  piles  of  guineas. 

It  was  my  first  meeting  with  Brocton.  Chance  and 
Margaret  had  brought  us  together  again. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  317 

"  Egad,  Tiverton,"  said  I  to  the  Marquess,  who  now  first 
observed  me,  "  you  had  the  cards  that  time  with  a  vengeance. 
Are  you  playing  on  ?  What  about  your  engagement  with 
me?  " 

The  Marquess  coloured  slightly  at  my  veiled  rebuke.  He 
looked  doubtfully  at  his  watch,  then  at  me,  and  finally  at 
Brocton. 

"  Have  you  had  enough  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Enough  ?  "  cried  Brocton.  "  Since  you  took  up  with 
farmers  you've  got  chicken-hearted  at  cards.  Play  on,  my 
lord !  " 

"  I  have  told  you,"  said  I  quietly  to  Brocton,  "  that  his 
lordship  has  an  engagement  with  me.  That  should  be 
enough.  If  you  want  your  revenge,  which  is  natural,  there 
are  other  nights  available." 

"  I  want  my  revenge  now,  and  will  have  it,"  he  said  mean- 
ingly, "  and  this  is  how  I  serve  men  who  come  between  me 
and  my  revenge."  He  was  shuffling  a  pack  of  cards  as  he 
spoke,  and,  with  the  words,  he  flung  them  in  my  face. 

At  most  of  the  tables  play  stopped,  and  the  players  there 
became  silently  intent  on  this  new  game  where  the  stakes  ran 
highest  of  all.  It  meant  a  fight,  a  fight  between  an  expert 
swordsman  and  a  man  who  knew  nothing  of  the  craft.  To 
such  a  fight  there  could  be  but  one  end. 

Tiverton  was  beside  himself.  "  She'll  never  forgive 
me  !  "  he  muttered,  and  I  looked  amusedly  at  him  and 
whispered,  "  Who  ?  The  nabobess  ?  " 

He  was  the  highest  in  rank  there,  and  as  such  a  court  of 
appeal  and  a  sort  of  master  of  the  ceremonies. 

"  My  Lord  Tiverton,"  said  I  aloud,  "  I  am,  as  you  know, 
a  recent  arrival  in  town  from  the  Americas  and  other  out- 
landish places,  and,  naturally  enough  under  these  circum- 
stances, I  am  not  clear  on  some  points." 

"  It's  clear  you've  been  swiped  across  the  face,"  broke  in 
Sir  Patrick  Gee. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir  !  "  said  Tiverton,  looking  quietly 
at  him.  "  Proceed,  Mr.  Wheatman  !  " 

It  made  me  smile  again,  tight  as  the  corner  was,  to  see 
the  play-acting  spirit  creeping  over  him.  He  was  beginning 
to  enjoy  himself. 


318  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

"  Therefore,  my  lord,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions,"  I  continued. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  he  replied,  with  great  impressiveness, 
taking  snuff  in  great  style  while  he  awaited  my  questioning. 

"  Is  there  any  doubt  that  I  am  the  insulted  person  ?  " 

"  None  whatever,"  he  replied.  "  My  Lord  Brocton  in- 
sulted you  wantonly  and  deliberately." 

"  Then,  my  lord  Marquess,  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  think 
I  have  the  right  of  choosing  the  place,  the  time,  and  the 
weapons." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Wheatman,"  he  answered. 

"Then  if  I  choose  to  say,  '  On  the  banks  of  the  Susque- 
hanna,  ten  years  hence,  with  tomahawks,'  so  it  must  be  ?  " 

A  wave  of  scornful  laughter  went  round  the  room  as  the 
question  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  Even  the  most 
ardent  gamblers  left  their  play  to  join  the  circle  around  us. 
English  even  in  their  vices,  they  took  a  fight  for  granted,  but 
were  up  in  a  moment  to  see  some  fun. 

The  Marquess  was  disconcerted.  He  obviously  felt  that  I 
was  about  to  reflect  on  him  in  the  gravest  way ;  that,  in  short, 
I  was  backing  out.  He  would  be  tarnished  by  the  dis- 
honour that  had  driven  me  out  of  the  world  of  gentlemen. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  "  that  would  be  overstraining  the 
privileges  of  an  insulted  gentleman." 

"  Run  away,  farmer  !  "  bellowed  Sir  Patrick  raucously. 

Tiverton  looked  disdainfully  at  him.  "  You  may  like  to 
know,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  as  grandly  as  if  he 
were  reciting  a  set  piece  from  the  stage,  "  that  on  the  night  of 
his  arrival  from  Boston  my  friend  was  rudely  insulted  in  the 
Strand  by  a  certain  person."  Here  he  stopped,  whirled  round 
on  the  hulking  scoundrel,  and  added  grimly  to  him,  "  I  shall 
finish  the  story  unless  you  leave  the  room  at  once." 

Gee  thought  better  of  it  and  slipped  off  like  a  disturbed 
night-prowler. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord,"  said  I  very  humbly,  "  for  your 
decision.  I  hope  my  unavoidable  ignorance  entitles  me  to 
try  again." 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  but  with  unmistakable  uncertainty 

I  looked  round  the  intent  curious  circle  of  faces  and  then 
at  Brocton.  On  his  face  and  in  his  cruel  eyes  there  were 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  319 

the  same  gloating  anticipations  that  were  there  when,  in 
Marry-me-quick's  cottage,  he  thought  he  was  bending 
Margaret  to  his  foul  will.  You  could  have  heard  a  card 
drop  in  that  crowded  room. 

My  time  had  come  to  the  tick.  Stretching  myself  taut, 
I  said  slowly  and  distinctly,  "  Here.  Now.  Fists." 

Brocton  went  limp  and  ghastly.  I  strode  up  to  him, 
took  him,  unresisted,  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  and  then 
said  curtly,  "  Open  the  door,  Tiverton." 

The  willing  little  Marquess  ran  delightedly  to  do  my( 
bidding,  and  I  kicked  my  lord  Brocton  into  the  kennel  and 
out  of  my  life. 

Next  morning  I  went  round  to  Tiverton's  as  usual,  and 
while  he  was  at  breakfast,  and  we  were  starting  our  usual 
round  of  talk,  in  came  Sir  James  Blount,  a  stranger  at 
such  an  hour. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  What  news  ?  "  asked  Tiverton,  rather  sour  at  being 
cheated  out  of  his  morning's  consolatory  grumble  with  me. 

"  Mr.  Freake  has  declared  that  Miss  Waynflete  is  to  be 
his  sole  heiress,"  he  replied. 

I  had  to  thump  Tiverton  to  prevent  him  being  choked 
by  something  that  went  the  wrong  way.  We  had  an  excited 
talk  about  the  news,  which  Sir  James  had  received  direct 
from  Master  Freake,  which  settled  it  as  a  fact  beyond 
dispute  or  change.  Margaret  was  now  the  most  desirable 
match  in  London  from  every  point  of  view.  Blount  went 
away  quite  pleased  with  the  stir  he  had  made. 

"  Henry  !  Henry  !  "  yelled  Tiverton  as  soon  as  we  were 
alone,  and  in  came  his  man  hastily.  "  Henry !  What  the 
devil  do  you  mean  by  putting  me  into  these  old  rags  ? 
Damme  !  I  look  like  a  chairman.  Go  and  get  some  decent 
things  out,  you  old  rascal !  I'm  to  call  on  the  greatest 
lady  in  London  town." 

He  hurried  off  after  his  servant,  and  I  heard  him  singing 
and  shouting  over  his  second  toilet.  I  crept  miserably 
out  of  the  house  and  made  my  way  to  the  mews.  The 
ostler  saddled  my  horse,  a  beautiful  chestnut  mare  which 
Master  Freake  had  given  me,  and  I  rode  out  of  town,  deep 
in  thought.  Mechanically,  I  went  the  way  we  had  intended 


320  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

to  go,  and  found  myself  at  last  on  the  heights  that  overlook 
London  from  the  north.    Then  I  pulled  up. 

The  towers  of  the  Abbey  stood  out  nobly  against  the 
steel-blue  sky.  Within  their  shadow  was  Master  Freake's 
house  where,  by  now,  Tiverton  would  not  have  pleaded 
his  love  in  vain.  I  saw  her  there,  in  the  splendid  room  she 
always  dimmed  with  her  greater  splendour,  the  exquisite 
Marquess  at  her  feet,  happy  in  possession  of  the  pearl  of 
great  price.  Over  this  vision  a  shadow  came,  and  I  saw 
the  house-place  at  the  Hanyards,  with  our  widowed  Kate 
alone  in  her  sorrow.  Her  flame-red  hair  was  white  as  snow 
and  tears  of  blood  were  on  her  cheeks.  Donald's  farewell, 
Weird  mun  hae  way,  boomed  in  my  ears  like  a  dirge.  With 
a  sigh  that  was  near  of  kin  to  a  sob,  I  pulled  the  mare  round 
and  urged  her  northwards,  northwards  and  homewards. 

In  my  fear  and  trembling  I  shirked  everything,  doing 
childishly  and  more  than  childishly.  I  was  not  on  Sultan, 
and  when  I  rode  out  of  Lichfield  I  hugged  that  simple  fact 
to  my  heart.  So  much  of  my  dream  had  at  least  not  come 
true,  and  I  gave  the  lie  to  more  of  it  by  leaving  the  high 
road  and  wandering  devious  ways  till,  within  four  or  five 
miles  of  home,  I  left  even  the  by-ways  and  kept  to  the 
fields.  So  keen  was  I  on  my  little  stratagems  that  I  rode 
over  the  Upper  Hanyards  without  once  recalling  the  fact 
that  it  was  now  mine  as  it  had  been  my  father's  before  me. 
About  four  o'clock  on  a  December  day,  just  over  a  year 
since  leaving  home,  I  leaped  the  mare  over  a  hedge  and 
was  at  the  old  gate. 

More  of  the  dream  was  untrue.  The  winter  sun  was 
dropping  down  to  the  hill-tops  like  a  great  carbuncle  set 
in  gold,  and  the  Hanyards  was  all  aglow  in  its  flaming  rays. 
The  gate  was  open,  so  that  I  could  at  least  begin  by  pitching 
into  Joe  Braggs  for  his  negligence,  and  the  windows  of  the 
house-place  shimmered  a  welcome  because  of  the  cheerful 
blaze  within. 

Not  a  soul  stirred.  I  jumped  down,  threw  the  reins 
over  the  gate-post,  and  walked  stealthily  into  the  yard  and 
up  to  the  window.  Still  not  a  soul  stirred. 

I  peeped  in. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  321 

There  was  our  Kate,  leaning  lovingly  over  my  chair, 
pillowed  as  she  had  never  pillowed  it  for  me,  and  in  the 
chair  was  clearly  a  man,  for  I  could  see  his  stockings  and 
breeches  stretching  comfortably  past  her  skirts.  She 
laughed  merrily  at  something  said,  and  then  stooped  and 
kissed  the  person  in  the  chair. 

This  was  woman's  faith  1  With  a  great  clatter,  I  strode 
into  the  porch,  thrust  open  the  door,  and  stepped  in.  There 
was  a  shout  of  delight,  a  babble  of,  "  It's  our  Noll !  It's  our 
Noll !  * '  and  Kate  leaped  into  my  arms  and  rained  kisses  on 
me. 

The  man  followed  her,  slowly  and  feebly,  leaning  heavily 
on  a  stick.  When  he  turned  his  face  so  that  the  firelight 
showed  him  up,  my  legs  sank  beneath  me  and  my  knees 
knocked  together.  It  was  Jack,  dear  old  Jack,  nothing  but 
the  shadow  of  himself,  but  still  Jack  right  enough,  and  his 
hand  was  in  mine. 

"  Run,  Kit !  "  he  cried.  "  Get  some  wine  !  The  lad's 
overcome.  God  bless  you.  old  Noll,  how  are  you  ?  " 

Kate  ran  off  into  the  parlour,  where  oar  wine  was  stored. 

"Jack!" 

"  Hello,  Noll !  " 

"  I  thought  I'd  killed  you." 

"  Was  it  you  ?  "  he  asked,  all  amazed  at  my  self-accusa- 
tion. 

"  Yes,"  I  faltered. 

"  By  gom,  Noll,  you  did  give  me  a  sock  I  " 

He  heard  Kate  tripping  back  with  the  wine,  and  put  his 
finger  on  his  lips  for  a  warning.  And  that  was  the  first  and 
last  remark  Jack  Dobson  made  on  the  subject. 


si 


322  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

CHAPTER   XXVI 
THE  WAY  OF  A  MAID  WITH  A  MAN 

IT  took  me  to  cure  Jack.  I  administered  one  dose  of 
medicine  and  he  at  once  began  to  fill  out  and  get  strong 
and  chesty  in  a  manner  almost  absurd,  whereon  there 
was  much  twitting  of  our  Kate  who,  in  her  old  way,  rated  me 
soundly  in  public  and  crept  up  to  me  in  private,  and  kissed 
me  and  wept  gladly  in  the  most  approved  maiden-like  style. 

This  was  the  way  of  it.  I  sent  Joe  Braggs  into  Stafford 
the  day  after  I  got  home  to  fetch  out  Master  Dobson,  and 
had  him  alone  in  my  room.  True  he  was  as  near  and  grasping 
as  ever,  but  I  saw  even  this  side  of  him  in  a  new  light  now, 
for  he  had  been  near  and  grasping  for  Jack.  He  was  rather 
uncertain  when  we  met  ;  glad  enough,  of  course,  to  see  an 
old  friend  back  again  safe  and  sound,  but  dubious  on  the 
main  point. 

"  Master  Dobson,"  said  I,  "  your  Jack  desires  to  wed  our 
Kate." 

"  So  he  tells  me,"  said  he  dolefully,  rubbing  his  thin 
finger  under  the  edge  of  his  bob-wig  to  scratch  his  perplexed 
head. 

"  She  is  an  excellent  young  woman,  and  a  comely,"  said 
I,  grinning  at  him. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  conceded. 

"  But,  as  the  head  of  the  family,  Master  Dobson,  I  offer  no 
objection  to  the  proposal."  Much  it  would  have  mattered 
if  I  had,  but  I  always  take  credit  when  and  while  I  can. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you,  Ol  .  .  .  Mr.  Wheatman,"  said 
he,  "  but  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,"  said  I  encouragingly. 

"  But  there's  what  I  may  call  the  material  side  of  the 
matter  to  be  considered.  My  son's  bride  should  be  suitable 
from  the  business  point  of  view." 

"  I've  been  considering  that  point,  Master  Dobson.  It  is 
undoubtedly  important.  Jack's  a  careless  young  dog,  and 
I'm  sure  our  Kate  is  just  the  woman  he  wants  from  a  business 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  323 

point  of  view.  She'll  keep  an  eye  on  every  meg  in  his 
pockets." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  he,  stirred  to  action,  as  I  knew  he  would 
be.  "  You  mistake  me  completely.  My  son  will  not  be 
wanting  in  this  world's  gear  and  he  must  have  a  wife  to 
match." 

"  I  see,"  said  I.  "  One  with  something  substantial  in 
her  pocket." 

"  Precisely,"  said  he. 

"  Well.  Master  Dobson,  if  our  Kate  is  willing  to  marry 
your  Jack,  a  point  on  which  I  can  offer  only  a  conjecture, 
she  will  marry  him  with  five  thousand  pound  in  her  pocket." 

He  sat  bolt  upright  and  stared  at  me  with  his  mouth  wide 
open. 

We  fetched  them  in,  mother  coming  with  them,  and  the 
old  man  there  and  then  gave  them  his  blessing.  Kate  ran 
into  mother's  arms,  while  Jack  wrung  my  hand  and  danced 
for  joy.  Afterwards  he  ate  the  most  astonishing  dinner 
imaginable,  loudly  asseverating  that  he  was  as  right  as  nine- 
pence  and  sick  of  slops. 

My  coming  back  made  a  great  noise  all  over  our  country- 
side. Of  what  I  had  actually  done  there  was  no  knowledge 
whatsoever.  The  tale  went  that  I  had  been  to  America 
and  found  a  goldmine,  and  come  home  and  bought  back 
the  lost  Hanyards.  Acute  sceptics  in  barbers'  shops  and 
market  ordinaries  advanced  the  opinion  that  it  must  have 
been  a  very  little  goldmine,  but  they  were  unable  to  substi- 
tute any  other  explanation  and  so  fell  into  contempt.  The 
tale  suited  me  and  I  never  contradicted  it.  In  a  world  where 
a  man  who  has  travelled  to  London  is  a  person  of  considera- 
tion and  renown,  I,  who  had  been  to  America,  was  as  a  god. 
My  first  visit  to  Stafford  put  the  sleepy  old  town  into 
commotion. 

Every  night  around  the  fire  in  the  house-place  I  told 
them  of  my  adventures.  Jack,  the  sly  fox,  sat  among  his 
cushions,  which  he  had  not  been  fool  enough  to  discard 
along  with  his  slops,  with  Kate  on  a  low  stool  at  his  knees. 
The  vicar  sat  by  mother's  side  on  the  settle.  I  drew  a  chair 
close  to  her,  so  that  her  hand  could  clasp  mine  as  I  talked, 
and  very  helpful  I  found  it,  for  she  understood  in  silence  and 


324  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

in  silence  comforted  me.  Jane  laid  supper,  taking  a  long 
time  over  it,  for  between  journeys  to  and  from  the  kitchen 
she  would  stand  behind  the  settle  and  listen  wide-eyed  to  a 
spell  of  my  talk.  Every  night  the  vicar  said  grace,  adding, 
in  his  simple,  apostolic  way,  a  special  thanksgiving  to  the 
good  God  who  had  brought  the  young  lad  safe  home  again, 
through  perils  by  sea  and  perils  by  land,  and  out  of  the  very 
hands  of  evil  men  who  had  compassed  him  about  to  destroy 
him.  Then,  after  supper,  I  escorted  the  good  man  home 
and  came  back  through  the  moonlit  lanes  ;  and  every  night, 
without  fail,  I  went  and  stood  on  the  very  spot  where  the  gaff 
had  slipped  out  of  my  collar,  and  I  had  turned  round  to  see 
Margaret. 

The  only  discontented  person  in  our  b'ttle  circle  was 
Joe  Braggs,  who  had  caught  the  dace  that  caught  the  jack, 
and  so  started  me  out  of  my  jog-trot  yeoman's  round  into 
the  great  world  of  life  and  adventure.  Joe  had  done  well 
while  I  had  been  away ;  our  fields  had  yielded  fruitfully 
under  his  care  as  bailiff ;  and,  having  had  a  favourable 
harvest,  we  were  much  money  in  hand  on  the  year's  working. 
I  had  thanked  him  heartily,  confirmed  him  as  my  bailiff 
now  that  I  was  back,  and  given  him  fifty  guineas,  a  sum 
which  to  him  was  wealth  untold.  Still  the  rascal  was  not 
satisfied,  and  went  about  with  a  bear  on  his  back,  as  Jane 
had  it,  so  that  I  was  greatly  tempted  to  clip  his  ear  for  him. 

The  day  before  Christmas,  he  was  busy  all  morning  under 
Jane's  garrulous  command,  getting  in  bunches  of  holly  and 
other  evergreens  from  the  hedgerows.  His  last  journey  had 
been  to  one  of  the  farms  on  the  Upper  Hanyards  in  quest  of 
mistletoe,  which  grew  abundantly  there  in  an  ancient  orchard. 
On  getting  back  he  had  held  a  sprig  over  Jane's  head  for  a 
certain  familiar  and  laudable  purpose,  and  had  been  rewarded 
with  a  smack  that  sounded  like  the  dropping  of  an  empty 
milk-pail.  A  little  later  I  found  him  glowering  in  a  cow- 
house, and  had  it  out  with  him. 

"  Look  here,  Joe,  my  lad,"  said  I,  "  tell  me  straight 
what's  the  matter  with  you  or  I'll  break  your  head." 

"  What  d'ye  want  to  come  back  'ere  for,  upsettin'  Jin 
like  this'n  ?  "  he  blurted. 

"  What  the  blazes  have  I  done  to  upset  Jin  ?  "  I  asked. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  325 

"  Why  didna  y'  bring  'er  back  wi'  ye,  then  ?  " 

"  Who's  her,  you  jolt-head  ?  "  I  demanded  angrily. 

"  That  leddy  o'  yourn.  Jin's  that  upset  'er  wunna  luk  at 
me,  an'  we  wor  gettin'  on  fine." 

It  was  no  use  talking  to  Joe.  I  explained  that  she  was  a 
great  lady  and  was  to  marry  a  marquess,  that  is  a  much  more 
important  person  than  an  earl.  He  knew  what  an  earl  was, 
for  of  course  he  had  heard  of  the  '  Yuri,'  meaning  that  old 
rascal  Ridgeley.  A  marquess,  however,  was  outside  his  ken, 
and  the  information  was  wasted. 

"  Why  didna  y'  marry  'er  y'rsel',  Master  Noll,  and  bring 
'er  back  'ere,  then  Jin  wud  'a'  bin  all  rate  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't,"  said  I. 

"  Did  y'  ask  'er  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  More  fule  yow,"  said  he  bitterly.  "  She'd  V  'ad  y',  rate 
enough.  Jin  says  so,  an'  'er  knows." 

What  could  be  done  with  such  a  silly  fellow  ?  I  left  off 
discussing  and  took  him  indoors  with  me.  In  front  of  Jane 
I  pledged  him  in  a  mug  of  ale  and  told  him  he  was  one  of  the 
best  lads  breathing,  and  I  was  greatly  beholden  to  him.  In 
front  of  him  I  kissed  Jane  under  the  mistletoe  and  told  her 
that,  bonny  lass  as  she  was,  she  was  lucky  to  have  the  best 
lad  in  Staffordshire.  I  left  them  in  the  kitchen,  and  heard 
no  more  crashes.  Later  on,  Joe  whistled  his  three  tunes 
with  admirable  skill  and  intolerable  persistency  while,  under 
Jane's  orders,  he  took  in  charge  the  boiling  of  the  Christmas 
puddings  in  a  vast  iron  pot  hung  over  the  kitchen  fire. 

It  was  growing  dark.  Everybody  was  happy.  Mother 
was  out  and  round  the  village  with  her  Christmas  gifts, 
attended  by  one  of  our  men  and  a  cart  packed  with  good 
things.  Nothing  could  have  made  her  happier.  Jack  and 
Kate  were  in  the  house-place  busy  with  all  sorts  of  house- 
wiferies, in  which  he  was  as  interested  as  she.  Joe  and  Jane 
were  in  the  kitchen,  as  merry  as  grigs.  I  went  into  my  own 
room,  across  the  passage  from  the  parlour,  sacrosanct  to  me, 
my  books  and  my  belongings. 

There,  too,  was  the  great  jack,  set  up  to  the  very  life  by 
the  skilful  hand  of  Master  Whatcot.  He  appeared  to  be 
cleaving  a  bunch  of  reeds  to  pounce  on  a  dace,  just  as  he 


326  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

had  done  once  too  often  on  that  memorable  day.  Brothers 
of  the  angle  had  made  pilgrimages  to  see  him  from  thirty 
miles  round,  and  it  was  an  added  charm  to  fancy  that  the 
monster  had  been  caught  in  a  spot  where  Izaak  Walton  had 
fished  as  a  boy,  he  having  been  born  and  bred  in  these  parts. 
My  jack  is  a  famous  jack,  for  the  curious  reader  will  find 
an  account  of  him,  with  his  dimensions  and  catching  weight 
exactly  given,  in  Master  Joshua  Spindler's  folio  volume 
entitled  "  Rudimenta  Piscatoria,  or  the  Whole  Art  of  Angling 
set  forth  in  a  Series  of  Letters  from  a  Nobleman  to  his  Son," 
London,  1751.  No  one  who  has  yet  seen  him  has  seen  a 
bigger,  though  most  of  them  have  heard  o£  one. 

I  lit  my  candles,  got  my  pipe  going,  and  drew  my  chair 
near  the  fire  to  read  and  smoke.  It  was,  however,  early 
days  yet  for  me  to  read  for  long.  Moreover,  by  habit  I  had 
picked  up  my  Virgil,  and  it  was  as  yet  impossible  for  me  to 
feel  the  tips  of  my  fingers  in  the  teeth-marks  without  thinking 
of  the  poor  wretch  who  had  made  them.  I  could  see  in 
exactest  detail  his  dead  body  lying  in  the  road  and  Swift 
Nicks  beside  it,  pitching  the  bag  of  guineas  up  and  down 
in  the  air,  and  smiling  gleefully  and  yet  wistfully  at  me. 
From  that  grim  event,  whether  my  mind  travelled  backwards 
or  forwards,  it  traversed  scenes  such  as  few  men  are  privileged, 
or  fated,  to  pass  through. 

It  was,  again,  too  soon  for  me  to  realize  the  full  effect 
of  my  experiences  on  myself.  I  was  not  moody,  as  in  the 
days  aforetime.  I  neither  loathed  my  lot  nor  cursed  my 
destiny.  I  had  seen  warfare  and  bloodshed,  I  had  had  my 
heart  wrung  and  my  nerves  racked,  and  now  the  peaceful 
meadows  winding  along  the  river  and  stretching  up  to  the 
purple  hills  were  dear  to  eyes  from  which  the  scales  had 
fallen.  This  was  the  life  and  labour  on  which  the  world 
was  based,  and  it  was  worthy  of  any  man.  I  had  seen  Death 
the  Harvester  at  work,  and  he  was  a  less  alluring  figure  than 
Joe  Braggs  with  a  flashing  sickle  in  his  hand  and  a  swathe 
of  golden  grain  under  his  arm. 

I  should  never  be  really  alone  again.  I  had  company 
of  which  I  should  never  tire  as  I  sat  here  with  my  memories. 
Margaret  was  rarely  absent  from  my  mind,  and  every  memory 
of  her  was  a  blessing  and  an  inspiration.  I  did  not  regret 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  327 

my  love,  foolish  and  vain  as  it  had  been.  The  thing  that 
really  mattered  was  that  Jack  was  alive.  I  could  now  look 
back  on  everything  without  bitterness.  If  Margaret  came 
for  me  now,  to  call  me  forth  to  another  hard  round  of  struggle 
and  adventure,  I  should  be  off  with  her  like  a  shot.  She 
had  made  a  splendid  companion.  She  would  make  a  splendid 
marchioness.  Some  day,  when  the  pain  would  not  be  un- 
endurable, I  would  go  to  London  and  steal  another  peep  at 
those  matchless  eyes  and  that  tower  of  golden,  gleaming 
hair. 

I  did  not  hear  the  door  open,  but  I  heard  mother's  calm 
voice,  gently  reproving  Jane  for  an  unseemly  giggle.  A 
pair  of  arms  crept  round  my  neck,  and  slim  white  fingers 
cupped  my  chin.  Kate  did  not  know  that  it  was  I  who  had 
so  nearly  sent  her  sweetheart  to  an  untimely  grave,  for  Jack 
had  sternly  forbidden  me  to  mention  the  subject  to  anyone, 
and,  as  I  have  said,  it  might  never  have  happened  so  far  as 
he  was  concerned.  Therefore  Kate,  always  a  loving  and 
attentive  sister,  was  now  more  loving  and  attentive  than 
ever  because  she  knew  in  her  heart  that,  though  I  had  gained 
much  in  my  wanderings,  I  had  lost  the  one  thing  she  had 
found  in  the  quiet  sickroom  where,  during  long  weary 
months,  she  had  lured  Jack  back  to  life.  It  was  always  her 
task  to  fetch  me  from  my  books  and  my  thoughts  to  the 
beloved  circle  in  the  house-place,  when,  as  now,  she  had 
prepared  a  dish  of  tea  for  us. 

The  soft  resolute  hands  raised  my  chin,  and  I  gasped 
as  I  looked  into  Margaret's  eyes. 

She  lightly  held  me  down,  and,  as  if  we  had  only  parted 
five  minutes  before  in  the  house-place,  began  to  speak, 
quietly  but  rapidly. 

"  Oliver,  do  you  remember  wafcing  me  in  the  barn  ?  " 

I  nodded.  I  was  too  amazed  to  speak,  and  there  was 
that  in  her  eyes  which  made  me  tremble. 

"  I  was  dreaming,"  she  said,  and  I  nodded  again  and 
remembered  how  she  had  flushed  like  the  dawn. 

"  Because  you  are  the  greatest  goose  of  a  man  that  ever 
lived,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  my  dream.  I  dreamed  that  you 
were  carrying  me  across  the  Pearl  Brook,  and  as  you 
carried  me  the  brook  got  wider  and  wider — you  had  made 


328  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

it  as  wide  as  you  could,  you  know — until  it  seemed  as  if  we 
should  never  get  across  it.  And  you  would  not  put  me 
down,  though  I  begged  you  to  do  so,  but  carried  me  on  and 
on.  You  grew  tired  and  weary,  and  your  face  went  white 
and  drawn,  as  I  find  it  now,  but  you  would  not  let  me  go. 
Was  it  not  a  curious  dream,  Oliver  ?  " 

Again  I  nodded. 

"  Why  can't  you  speak,  Oliver  ?  Anything  would  make 
it  less  hard.  Then,  because  you  were  so  weary,  and  so  good 
to  me,  and  so  faithful,  and  long-enduring,  I  did  in  my  dream 
...  in  my  dream,  you  mark  .  .  .  something  very  un- 
maidenly  .  .  .  and  immediately  we  were  both  on  the  other 
side ;  and  I  awoke  as  you  put  me  down  at  last  and  found 
you  by  my  side,  having,  in  your  knightly  unselfishness, 
ruined  your  hat  to  give  me  a  drink  of  milk.  And  because  you 
are  the  best  man  on  earth,  and  also  a  blind  silly  goose,  Oliver, 
and  I  must  take  some  risk  or  lose  my  all,  I  am  going  .  .  . 
to  do  the  unmaidenly  thing  I  did  in  my  dream  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
you  .  .  .  must  not  misjudge  me,  Oliver." 

She  stopped,  smiled  as  only  Margaret  can,  and  bent  her 
head  until  a  loose  coil  of  amber  hair  fell  on  my  face  Then 
she  brushed  it  aside  and,  after  a  little  gasping  cry,  kissed 
me  on  the  lips. 


EPILOGUE 
THE  LITTLE  JACK 

AT  THE  HANYARDS 

STAFFORDSHIRE 
August  gth,  1757 

MARGARET  and  I  had  a  hot  dispute  this  morning. 
True  she  went  away,  singing  happily,  to  rebuild  the 
masses  of  yellow  hair  that  had  fallen  all  over  her 
shoulders  and  mine,  for  the  dreadful  stuff  seems  to  tumble 
down  if  I  look  at  it,  but  still  we  had  disputed,  and  vigorously, 
too.     The  plain  fact  is  she  had  sniffed  at  Aristotle. 

The  trouble  arose  out  of  this  story  of  mine  which  I  have 
been  bus}  writing  for  the  last  twenty  months.     It  has  been 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  329 

hard  work,  for  I  was  new  to  the  business,  and  had  to  learn 
how  to  do  it,  but  it  has  been  a  pleasant  task  and  a  labour  of 
love.  Now  we  disputed  about  it.  I  said  it  was  finished.  She 
said  it  wasn't.  I  said  I  ought  to  know.  She  replied  not 
necessarily,  since  I  was  such  a  great  goose.  Then  I  loaded 
my  big  gun  and  thought  to  blow  her  clean  out  of  the  water. 

"  My  dear  Margaret,"  said  I,  "  Aristotle  lays  it  down  that 
every  work  of  art  has  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end. 
The  beginning  of  our  story  was  the  catching  of  the  great 
jack,  the  middle  of  it  was  the  fight  at  the  '  Red  Bull,'  and 
the  end  of  it  was  the  kiss  you  gave  me.  You  see,  dear,  how 
exactly  I  have  done  what  Aristotle  says  I  ought  to  do." 

"  Bother  Aristotle  !  What  does  he  know  about  us  ?  " 
It  was  here  that  she  sniffed,  not  figuratively  but  actually. 
That  is  to  say  she  held  up  her  nose,  on  pretence  of  looking  at 
me,  and  audibly  .  .  .  well,  sniffed.  There's  no  other  word 
for  it.  Then  she  cried  triumphantly,  "  What  is  the  use, 
Noll,  of  telling  our  story  and  not  saying  a  single  word  about 
the  most  important  people  in  it  ?  " 

To  this  question  I  made  no  reply.  I  was  beaten. 
Aristotle,  had  he  been  in  my  place,  would  have  been  beaten 
too.  If  we  had  been  in  town  I  would  have  run  round  to  Mr. 
Johnson's  and  asked  him  to  assist  me,  but  I  feel  sure  he  would 
have  been  as  helpless  as  I  was.  There  was  no  reply,  so  I 
contented  myself  with  playing  with  her  gorgeous  hair  till  it 
was  all  a-tumble  to  the  floor. 

Bother  Aristotle  !     I  must  do  as  Margaret  bids. 

The  Colonel  and  Master  Freake  were  in  the  house-place 
when,  at  last,  that  memorable  Christmas  Eve,  I  proudly 
took  my  Margaret  there. 

"  Sir,"  said  I  to  the  former,  before  he  had  ceased  his 
hearty  handshake,  "  I  love  Margaret  dearly  and  Margaret 
loves  me.  May  we  be  married  ?  " 

"  You  young  dog  !  What  d'ye  say  to  that,  John  ?  "  he 
said. 

"  Nothing  is  nearer  to  my  heart,"  said  the  great  merchant 
of  London,  giving  me  his  hand  in  turn. 

"  Nor  to  mine,  so  that  settles  it,"  cried  the  Colonel,  fish- 
ing  out  his  snuff-box,  while  I  led  Margaret  up  to  mother. 


330  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

We  spent  a  happy  Christmas  as  lovers,  and  were  married 
on  New  Year's  Day  by  the  vicar. 

Jack  and  Kate  were  married  in  the  spring,  by  which  time 
lie  was  as  well  and  strong  as  ever.  For  years  I  feared  lest 
his  severe  wound  should  have  left  some  permanent  source  of 
weakness,  but  happily  my  fears  were  ill-founded.  Jack, 
having  had  enough  of  soldiering,  took  to  business  at  Master 
Freake's  suggestion.  He  has  developed  all  his  father's 
shrewdness  while  retaining  all  his  own  boyish  charm.  He  is 
now  Master  Freake's  right  hand,  in  the  great  London  house 
of  Freake  &  Dobson.  Kate  is  Kate  still,  ardent,  busy, 
level-headed,  and  loving,  and  the  happy  mother  of  three 
girls  and  a  boy.  Jack  and  I  are  as  twins  to  one  another. 

In  the  summer  after  our  wedding,  Margaret  and  I  went 
our  journey  over  again.  We  saw  Cherry-Cheeks,  and  made 
sure  that  Sim  should  have  not  only  a  good  wife  but  a  good 
business  of  his  own  to  keep  her  on.  We  found  out  sweet 
Nance  Lousely,  and  filled  her  pinner  full  of  guineas  after  all, 
and  left  her  tearful  and  happy.  We  knelt  together  by  a 
simple  grave  in  the  Catholic  burial-ground  at  Leek,  and  on 
the  top  of  Shap  we  stood,  with  tears  in  our  eyes,  beside  the 
great  stone  that  marked  the  resting-place  of  Donald  and  his 
chief. 

I  did  become  a  Parliament  man,  as  Master  Faneuil  had 
said  I  should,  and  am  a  strong  supporter  of  Mr.  Pitt.  We 
spend  part  of  each  year  in  London,  where  the  Marquess  is  our 
great  friend.  He  married  the  nabobess  after  all,  and  she 
loved  him  well  enough  to  make  it  her  business  to  reform  him. 
He  vows  she  is  the  finest  woman  in  England,  with  a  head  on 
her  shoulders  as  good  as  Mr.  Freake's.  She  makes  a  good 
marchioness,  too,  for  she  always  had  sense,  and  has  developed 
dignity. 

But  most  of  our  time  we  spend  at  the  Hanyards,  which  I 
have  made  into  a  fine  house  by  careful  changes.  Master  Joe 
Braggs  and  Mistress  Jane  Braggs  are  our  loyal,  willing 
servants  and  our  friends,  and  are  as  happy  as  sandboys 
together.  They  have  now  quite  a  large  family. 

To-day  we  are  all  together  again  for  a  long  stay  at  the 
Hanyards.  The  Archdeacon  of  Lichfield.  once  our  beloved 
vicar,  is  with  us,  simple,  fatherly,  and  learned  as  of  old. 


THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER  331 

I  can  see  his  white  head  when  I  lift  mine  up  from  my  writing. 
He  is  sunning  himself  in  the  garden  and  talking  with  mother, 
who  turns  her  eyes  now  and  again  to  look  at  the  road,  for 
Kate  and  Jack  are  coming  in  from  Stafford  with  their 
children. 

All  these  are  familiar  names,  but  it  is  fit  that  the  record 
should  be  given  before  I  go  back  to  Margaret's  sniff  at  Aris- 
totle. For  while  I  was  busying  myself  with  her  hair,  who 
should  come  in  sight,  walking  through  the  orchard  from  the 
river,  but  the  Colonel  and  Master  Freake.  They  stopped  to 
join  mother  and  the  Archdeacon  in  their  talk,  and  we,  looking 
at  them,  were  proud  and  happy  in  the  knowledge  of  their  love 
for  us. 

Then  there  was  a  great  clatter  and  chattering  and  excited 
shouting  without.  Margaret  had  left  the  door  of  my  study 
open,  and  in  raced  the  most  important  people  in  our  story. 
They  had  a  tale  too  big  for  coherent  talk,  and  they  gabbled 
away,  one  after  the  other  or  both  together,  to  tell  us  all 
about  it. 

It  was  Oliver  who  had  done  it.  He  held  up  with  a  pride 
that  made  him  splutter  a  little  jack  about  fourteen  inches 
long,  which  he  had  just  caught.  They  say  he  is  his  father 
over  again.  At  any  rate,  he  will  fish  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  if  he  can  coax  one  of  us  elders  to  go  with  him  to  take 
care  of  him. 

There  he  stood,  the  fish  dangling  at  arm's  length,  telling 
his  mother  exactly  how  he  had  done  it.  I  do  not  pretend  to 
be  impartial,  but  a  finer  boy  than  mine  is  not  to  be  found. 
He  drops  the  fish  to  the  floor  to  rush  into  his  mother's  arms 
to  be  kissed  and  praised. 

I  am  busy,  too  ;  busy  as  I  love  best  of  all  to  be.  For  on 
my  knee,  her  arms  round  my  neck  and  her  great  mane  of 
glorious  wheat-coloured  hair  tickling  my  face,  is  the  dearest 
little  creature  on  God's  earth,  my  other  Margaret.  If  you 
want  to  see  me  when  I  am  intensely  proud  and  happy,  you 
must  see  me  with  her  at  my  side  walking  in  the  Park  or  down 
the  Green  Gate  at  Stafford,  with  all  eyes  turning  on  her 
because  of  her  surpassing  childish  beauty. 

"  I  helped  him  catch  it,  daddy,"  she  says,  lifting  up  her 
face  to  be  kissed. 


332  THE  YEOMAN  ADVENTURER 

So  does  history  repeat  itself,  and  it  is  settled  at  once 
that  Noll's  jack  is  to  be  put  by  Master  Whatcot  in  the  same 
case  as  dad's,  for  all  the  world  to  know  that  he  is  as  good 
a  fisherman  as  his  father  before  him.  Joe  is  to  send  it  to 
Stafford  at  once,  and  the  two  rush  off  eagerly  to  give  it  to 
him,  leaving  us  alone. 

To  the  glowing  beauty  of  her  maidenhood  Margaret  has 
added  the  serene  beauty  of  motherhood.  That  is  all  the 
change  I  can  see  in  her,  as  I  put  my  arms  round  her  and  draw 
her  to  me. 

When  she  could  speak  she  said  happily,  "  Well  done 
fisherman  1 " 


Jl  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

C.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Compl«t«  Catalogue  sent 
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The 
More  Excellent  Way 

By 
Cyrus  Townsend  Brady 

72°.     Color  Frontispiece.    $1.35* 

A  tale  of  modern  society  and  the  di- 
vorce question,  with  the  scenes  laid  in 
New  York,  Sorrento,  Bermuda,  and 
Reno.  Rarely  has  an  author,  without 
attempt  at  preaching,  written  a  story  so 
subtly  influential,  so  provocative  of 
thought,  even  while  it  seems  to  leave 
no  time  for  thought  in  the  swift  succes- 
sion of  its  dramatic  developments. 

414 The  More  Excellent   Way'  de- 
serves good  place  on  the  shelf  of  read- 
able books."— AT.  Y.  Times. 
t 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  London 


Desmond's  Daughter 


Maud  Diver 

Author    of    "Captain    Desmond,    V.C.,"    "Hi*    Groat 

Amulet,"  "The  Hero  of  Herat,"  *Th« 

Judgment  of  the  Sword,"  etc. 

/**.     Color  Frontis/ticc*.     $l.SO 

Readers  of  Captain  Desmond,  V.C.,  The 
Great  Amulet,  and  Candles  in  the  Wind  will 
welcome  the  addition  to  this  trilogy  of 
another  glowing  Anglo-Indian  tale,  in- 
cluding the  true  story  of  the  Tirah 
campaign.  The  Daughter  has  the 
strength  of  personality  that  one  would 
expect  from  the  offspring  of  so  virile  a 
character,  and  the  scenes  of  Anglo- 
Indian  life  are  the  true,  thrilling  scenes 
that  have  won  fame  for  the  author. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  London 


The 
Breath  of  the  Dragon 

A  Romance  of  Modern  China 

By 
A.  H.  Fitch 

12*.     Color  Frontispiece.     $1.35 

The  story  deals  in  part  with  Legation 
life  in  Peking  but  mainly  with  events  in 
the  imperial  palace  and  among  the  people 
and  the  beggars  of  Peking.  A  perfectly 
correct  portrayal  of  that  extraordinary 
character,  the  Empress  Dowager,  is 
given.  While  not  an  historical  novel, 
the  romance  contains  historical  truths. 
The  author  is  a  niece  of  a  former  U.  S. 
Minister  to  China  and  lived  there  with 
her  aunt  and  uncle  for  two  years. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


The  Cab  of  the 
Sleeping  Horse 

By 
John  Reed  Scott 

Author  of  "The  Colonel  of  the  Red  Hussars,"  etc. 
72°.     Color  Frontispiece.     Price,  $135 

From  the  moment  of  the  discovery  by  the 
hero  of  the  trampled  roses  and  the  cypher 
message  in  the  driverless  cab,  the  horse  of 
which  is  peacefully  slumbering,  up  to  the  end 
of  the  final  page,  this  story  of  diplomatic 
intrigue  in  Washington  of  today  moves  with 
never  a  halt.  Readers  familiar  with  the  earlier 
books  by  Mr.  Scott  need  not  be  reminded 
that  when  he  chooses  to  write  a  delightful  love 
story  with  an  accompaniment  of  this  sort  no 
one  should  start  to  read  it  unless  ready  to 
continue  to  the  end  without  putting  it  down. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  London 


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